Given
by tweedledee123
Summary: Lynn Ramsey is left to run her father's company. This only causes more problems, namely trying to save her family and her life. During this, she meets with an old childhood aquaintance who becomes something more...JOC. NO LONGER ON HIATUS!
1. The Secret Confession of Jacob Price

AN: For anyone reader _All For You_, don't fret, I'm not abandoning that story. However, inspiration came for this story, and I absolutely _had_ to start it.

I ought to note that this story is throwing out the whole COTBP story line and beyond. In other words, the only characters I am using are Jack and his crew, with maybe some references to Norrington and the Turners and such. Maybe. We will see what happens

Disclaimer: I do not own POTC, any characters, themes, or objects and otherwise. If I did, I would be publishing these stories and getting more money.

As always, enjoy the story

* * *

Lynn. That was the name she had always gone by, though in all honesty, her real name was Lillian. But it was a mutual agreement between her parents and all whom she knew that 'Lynn' much better suited her. So, unofficially, she was Lynn Ramsey.

Ethereal Heights, home of the Price family, was the only home Lynn had ever known. Her family, though in truth merchants by trade, was under the service of this wealthy goliath of a family. The circumstances which had caused such a thing to be were well before her birth, and were rarely spoken of, but Lynn did manage to scrape up most of the story by the time she was ten.

Her grandfather was a very successful merchant, constantly going between the West Indies, the Colonies, and England. Much of his trade involved the late Mr. Price, now dead and replaced by his son. The two became rather close acquaintances, and when Lynn's father took over the business, he was on excellent terms with both Mr. Price senior and Mr. Price junior.

It was two years after the elder past away that the business ran into bankruptcy, due mostly to the villainous pirates that roamed the Caribbean. Soon, the debt and financial trouble had become so great, Mr. Ramsey was on the brink of being thrown into the debtor's prison. It was the divine intervention of the younger Mr. Price that saved the family, but the amount necessary to pay off such debt was impossible for the Ramsey family at that time.

So there was an agreement arranged. As Mr. Ramsey continued his marketing from coast to coast, Mrs. Ramsey would remain at Ethereal Heights with the remainder of the family to work in the house as a maid, therefore paying off the debt by labor. Of all the earnings Mr. Ramsey earned, half went straight to the Price family to help pay off the debt in that fashion.

It was not a bad position to be in, all things considered. Food was always available, there was always a comfortable roof and bed to be in, and an excellent education was possible. Lynn, along with her two older sisters, grew up in nothing short of moderate bliss.

The bliss was different for each. Annabelle, the eldest from Lynn by eight years, was the average Prima Donna who wanted nothing more than pretty clothes, jewelry, balls, and boys. She, by far, was the favorite of Mrs. Price, and was often treated to such things, for Mrs. Price had no daughters of her own. Delilah, younger than Annabelle by three years, was a flighty, adventurous girl who enjoyed spending her time acting as princesses, princes, pirates, queens, or whatever caught her fancy. She was a favorite of the town boys, for she was easy to talk to, always wore a bright smile, and was just as eager to get in trouble as any of them.

For Lynn, the happiness was different. She did not find joy in dressing up or pretending; though, she was not opposed to it either, and rather enjoyed doing such activities with her sisters. No, what Lynn enjoyed most was the large library that the Prices owned. Story after story she could read to her heart's delight. Map after map she could pour over, discovering new places. In all respects, Lynn was a dreamer, a thinker, a wonderer. Naturally, out of all the sisters, she was the more quiet of the three, however, she was also the most stubborn of them all. Where she sisters were whimsical and flirtatious, she was practical and witty, if she desired to be such. She was the observer, the one who saw but did not say.

At a very young age, it was clear who the beauties of the family were. Both Annabelle and Delilah had luscious blonde hair that grew to the nape of their backs, though Delilah was obviously the prettier of the two. Both were medium height and slender, with extremely fair skin. Clear complexions and round eyes, both resembled fairytale princesses, much like their mother.

Lynn took after her father. He was tall, and she was tall, though in comparison to many other girls, she wasn't noticeable. Like him, her skin freckled easily, leaving faint traces of them across her otherwise clear, white skin. Like her sisters, she was slender, but with much more muscle, and a much more angular jaw that could make her look absolutely vicious when angry. All in all, she did give the appearance of a rather plain girl at first sight, and if one was to take the time, she could become somewhat pretty in appearance. Her only redeeming attribute was her gorgeous black hair, which she commonly held in a tight bun to keep it under control.

But this paradise that the girls lived in indeed had to be shared but none other than the Price's only child, Jacob Price. He was a devilish one, with raven black hair and playful brown eyes, and a smile that could melt one's heart. Ten years older than Lynn herself, he was often found teasing Annabelle, or chasing after Delilah, for whom he had a deep admiration for. He commonly ignored Lynn, unless to bug her when neither sister was at home. He wasn't cruel, just dismissive, and truthfully, Lynn didn't mind it. The relationship between them was where any girl of her age wanted it to be with any boy of his age, which was more or less aloof of each other.

This was the circumstance that showed itself three days after Lynn's eighth birthday, and two months before Jacobs seventeenth. Lynn was, as usual, burying herself in books and maps in the library, extraordinary for a child of her age, and to Jacob, rather peculiar. So, seeing as she was alone, and that Delilah was not at home, he decide to come in and have a look at what she was doing.

Lynn was dressed in a rather plain cream dress, she had never been one for lovely things, though she was rather picky at whether something was clean or not, and had a habit of looking rather prim, as her mother put it, "a miniature adult." This behavior also said quite a bit about her character, for out of the three sisters, she the by far the more mature, though there still was a lively and careless side of her that was commonly shone about the house, but one that was rarely seen by others outside of the family.

"Well, well, if it isn't Lillian Ramsey, messing up my father's maps again? What are you doing, luv?"

This little pet name was something Jacob had picked up recently, and now could not seem to stop using. More often than not, it was in reference to Delilah, though it was beginning to encompass most of the female population of Ethereal Heights.

Lynn sniffed in annoyance, pursing her lips into a thin line, but otherwise remained unchanged. Instead, she continued looking avidly at the map in front of her, tracing the lines with her nimble fingers. Jacob laughed heartily and patted her on the shoulder, rather roughly in fact, though he probably believed he was being friendly. "Silent as usual, I see. Yet this is the same girl I saw yesterday running around like a savage by the coast, yelling and screaming like a banshee."

"That was hardly a banshee," Lynn muttered softly. Even for eight years old, the way she talked was stately and purposeful. Jacob raised an eyebrow. The child that was in Lynn gave out, and she rolled her eyes and huffed slightly. "Well, I _am_ allowed to play. I'm eight. Just turned it three days ago, after all."

"You know, I remember the day you were born," began Jacob playfully, and Lynn swatted him on the arm, puckering her lips in defiance. In the few conversation the two ever held, this topic had been a favorite of his to bring up, mostly for the such predictable reaction it invoked from poor Lynn. The fact that this boy could remember her own birth was a bit embarressing for her, especially when Jacob would go into detail.

"I already know. The first thing you asked when you saw me was why the midwife was holding a lobster. Stupid story, if you ask me."

"But I didn't."

Lynn stared at Jacob stonily, her jaw set and dangerous. Jacob, who was quite accustomed to this glare, reclined back in the chair he had plopped himself down in and smiled. It was a perfect smile, white, warm, and inviting, one that would later lure many women to him, a gift he was quickly becoming aware of. It had little affect on the young Lynn though, and soon she was bored and turned back to the maps.

"What are you doing? Can you read them?"

"I'm learning."

Jacob seemed genuinely impressed, making Lynn smile inside of herself. Jacob never seemed to care about her doings, and for him to suddenly take interest was nice. "Do you want to learn because of your father?" Lynn nodded slightly as he pulled the map toward him. "This is of the Caribbean, where your father is right now. Do you know where he is?" She pointed toward St. Kitts silently. Jacob nodded, a small grin on his face.

"I was trying to figure out how much longer he was going to be gone."

"Ah. Do you want help?" The question was more to be polite than truthful, and Lynn shook her head.

"I would have already asked. I almost have it figure out, anyway."

Jacob laughed. "If you were my age and a man, I would hire you for my crew to navigate."

"Your crew? But your only seventeen!"

"But you see, Lillian, I am going to sail away on my eighteenth birthday. Get away from this place. I've been oppressed and stuffed up in this house long enough. All I want now is freedom. Time to feel the wind on my face, smell the salt in the air, be attached to nothing and no one."

Lynn studied him skeptically. "You don't want to be a merchant though, not when my father offered you a job."

"I'm doing something much more respectable. I'm going to be a privateer."

"You can't captain a ship. And I don't think much of pirates."

"Pirates and privateers are two very different things, and you have never thought much of me anyways. And for your information, I am quite capable of sailing a ship. I can certainly captain one."

"How are you going to get a ship?"

"I already have one. Built her myself."

Lynn was about to ask how he could possibly build a boat, but kept her mouth shut, remembering that he had been gone recently, and Delilah had seen him down by the docks more often than not. "What's her name?"

"The _Black Pearl_. She is going to be absolutely gorgeous when I'm done with her." Jacob suddenly sat up straight in his chair, as if he had just waken from a terrible dream. "Why am I telling you this? You could give it all away and ruin everything."

It was as if a dark cloud had descended on his countenance, and Lynn shrunk back as he glared at her. "You must be absolutely silent, or I will personally skin you alive. Do you understand?"

Lynn was never sure whether Jacob had meant the threat or not, but she kept silent all the same. Indeed, as he had said, on his eighteenth birthday, Jacob Price was gone, and as far as Lynn was concerned, never to be seen again.


	2. Coming Home

.AN: Hello to everyone! I just wanted to say that if anything about this story is confusing you, go ahead and ask. I'm trying a tweaked style of writing from what I generally do, and I'm not sure how well it is flowing.

Once again, enjoy.

* * *

Twelve more years past uneventfully, except for the marriage between Annabelle and a lord, Sir Joshua Taylor. He was a, as Lynn had mentioned to her mother often, a rather bland character with about as much sense as a bowl of porridge. This description was made partly with jealousy; Lynn did not want her sister to be taken away, for she was only fourteen when the marriage took place, and to be stuck alone in the house with Mrs. Price and the spirited Delilah was almost too much for her. If Annabelle had been good for anything, it was to listen to complaints. She never gave advice, and Lynn was skeptical as to whether she was actually _listening_, but once the complaining part was over, Annabelle was very good at sympathizing, always cooing and brushing the hair out of your eyes, telling you that it was going to be alright.

But life went on, and Lynn began to spend more and more time in the library and garden instead of adventuring with Delilah like she use to, something else she was missing very much. Now a days, Delilah could be found in the general store in town, commonly to visit with Annabelle, who went there often, but usually to allow the town's young men to gape at her.

It was a pity, as far as Lynn was concerned. Delilah was a very bright girl, as opposed to Annabelle who could be a little slow at times. And here she was, showing herself like a ware to be sold, acting like a helpless, stranded young women as to attract attention to herself.

At times Lynn felt like she was missing something, or falling behind. She could never understand why though, and this fact made her very upset. Not knowing something was a very frustrating situation to be in, and Lynn avoided it at all possible costs. But as she grew older, the less this thought bothered her, and she was usually more or less content with her present life.

It was the day of her eighteenth birthday that they had received the news that Mr. Ramsey had died out at sea.

It really was no great surprise. He had married at an older age, an accomplished seaman by the time he had met Mrs. Ramsey. Of course there was the usual sorrow and lament that would accompany any death, but all in all, everyone agreed it was about time he would give up the ghost and have his peace.

Only one question remained. Who was to take over the business?

Mr. Ramsey had not bothered to write a will, for most all of his earnings were going to the Prices to pay the debt. He had no son who would take the business, and no close friends who would want to. The only remaining choice would be one of the daughters, scandolous as it seemed.

In reality, there was only one choice: Lynn. Annabelle could have never handled such a situation, nor her husband (Lynn still was of the same opinion as when she was fourteen, though she did give him credit for being a good fellow). Delilah hardly could have cared; she was more concerned about finding a husband still. Lynn was the only one left with enough sense to run such a large venture.

Now, it wasn't that Lynn wanted to claim the business. She never was fond of being a leader, though if it was necessary, she would do it, and do it well. The problem was that she felt obligated to continue her father's work.

For one thing that Lynn did realize was that thousands of people depended on this business. It wasn't much compared to the East India Trading Company, but for a private ownership, it was rather large. If it were to suddenly disappear, which would be the other consequence, hundreds of sailors would lose their jobs, and hundreds more would lose a source of food and supplies. So for the sake of the mass unknowns, Lynn decided to take over the merchant business.

Originally, she had planned to stay in England, but she soon realized it was very hard to run such a business without going to the many places and conduct business herself. So with the help of Ambrose Macintosh, she set out on her father's old ship, the _Reverie_, to begin her life at sea.

Her appearance had changed little. She was taller, naturally. Many other subtle changes had occurred as well; her skin was less freckly (though not nearly as clear as Delilah's perfect face) and there as a bronze tint to it that showed she was outside often, but the underlying tone was still the creamy white it had always been. Her blue eyes had eventually became more hazel, which might change to a deeper green every now and then, pretty in their own right but nothing outstanding. Her lips were a bit fuller than they had been as a child, but still thin compared to her sisters.

Everything else seemed to have remained the same. She was still slender, and still tall, but her figure was not particularly outstanding. Her hips, unlike Annabelle's, were slim, and her front was not terribly large. Her hair remained the thick, gorgeous color it had always been, but as always was tucked away in a tight bun, showing her long neck. She was still the plainer of the three sisters, and though she rarely admitted it, this was something she was a little saddened by. It wasn't that she wanted to be beautiful; Lynn just dearly wanted to _not_ be the ugly duckling.

Two years had past, and Lynn's business was running its ever successful course. She was captain of the ship now, which in all respects was rather odd, for she knew very little about the ocean and how to sail. She supposed it was more in respect for her position, so she took it in stride, letting Ambrose figure the coordinates while she figured the numbers.

But now, as she had turned twenty not a week ago, she was back in England, Ethereal Heights. Mrs. Ramsey was not doing as well as she generally did, and Delilah was becoming rather frustrated.

"Oh, Lynn! Thank heavens you're here! Mother has been absolutely mad with pain! No doctor can do anything for her!" The force of the hug Lynn subsequently received nearly knocked her over as she attempted to step through the door to the estate. Delilah had changed little since their last meeting, which was more than six months ago. Her blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight, her fair skin rosy with excitement.

"Hello, Del. What is mother sick with? I only got the letter two weeks ago; is she still bad?"

"Not as much so. The doctors said she had the flu, and nearly died. It was terrible, but she's a strong women, and managed to pull through it. Now, she just complains. I can still hear it ringing in my ears!"

"I suppose I am simply another ear to torture."

"While mine are recovering, yes." The sisters smiled at each other. When Delilah would feel so inclined, she could easily match wits with her younger sister, and both knew it. "I'm glad your back, Lynn."

"Me too. Business has been rather dreary."

Delilah let a small giggle escape her mouth. "You aren't much of a business type. I was surprised when you took it over. And at eighteen! You need to be worried about other, more important things!"

Lynn sighed. "Del, too many people depend on the Ramsey Company. If it didn't keep it going, it could ruin the lives of all of them."

"You care about people too much."

"That was a rude remark. You depend on it too, don't try denying it."

Delilah fell silent, but rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Lillian Ramsey! How nice to see you again!"

It was Mrs. Price, a large, homely women who had an air of elegance and pride around her regardless. Many found her intimidating, but Lynn simply found her welcoming, not doubt attributed to her being raised here since birth. The two embraced fondly, and Mrs. Price sized her up. "I daresay you grown an inch every time I see you. And that skin! Freckled all over!"

"I'm afraid neither can be helped, Mrs. Price. The growth is none of my doing, and my work demands I stay outside."

"Twenty years old, and working like a man! It's absolutely absurd! If you were a aristocrat, you would be going to balls, and probably be married by now! Twenty! You're going to be an old maid!"

Delilah blushed hard, and Lynn knew why. She was already twenty five, and not married, though she mentioned she might be engaged soon, according to the last letter she had sent to Lynn.

"I think I can manage," Lynn whispered, patting the lady's arm reassuringly.

Mrs. Price shook her head, not convinced at all. Though she would never openly admit it, Lynn _did_ want to get married, but she wasn't about to waste her time _trying_ to be married. The right man would come along in due time; Lynn had decided she just needed to be patient and wait.

"Let's go to your room and get your things in order. Is Ambrose going to be staying in town?" Ambrose did usually accompany her wherever Lynn went, both for protection and friendship, for they had become very close after her father's death.

"No. The _Reverie_ needs a few repairs, and Ambrose is going to oversee that. He might show up later in a few days."

Mrs. Price nodded and motioned for the two of them to follow her up the stairs. When she had lived here, her room was in the servant quarters, but now that Lynn was officially gone and living elsewhere, she was housed in the guest rooms, a fact that irked Delilah greatly.

They arrived on the second floor, whose walls were covered with pictures of the ancestors of the Prices, ones Lynn enjoyed fawning over in spare time. But as they walked on, she noticed a new one hanging not ten feet away.

It was a picture of a young man, one who would have been in their late teens at the time of the painting. He was dark, handsome, with a mischievous grin that could melt a heart. Lynn recognized him in an instant: it was Jacob Price, the same one she had known when she was but eight.

Mrs. Price stared longingly at it. "He looked so much like his father. And such potential in every aspect of his life. If only…" she never finished her sentence. Delilah was looking hungrily at it as well, leaving Lynn to be the only one honestly musing without emotions cluttering her brain. The memories of him were nothing spectacular.

"I think he is still alive," Lynn finally said. "I don't think he would let himself die."

Mrs. Price smiled forcefully. "I just wish I knew what had happened to him. No clues, no nothing. Well, here is your room, Lillian. I imagine your mother is going to want to see you soon."

She nodded politely, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking of this new revelation. The Prices had never known where Jacob had gone; yet, he had told her, an eight year old girl, what he was going to do. Lynn laughed at her own absurd thoughts. It couldn't have been the truth, only a silly story to entertain or scare her, both done, if not intended. Indeed, she barely remembered it now, it was so long ago. Something about a ship…but it mattered no more. Twelve years ago Lynn had last seen him. What did he matter to her now? She would never see Jacob Price again.

* * *

Lynn was freshened and in a peach day dress, ready to attended to her waiting mother, whom Delilah had come numerous times to remind she was begging for Lynn's presence. Stepping though the door, she saw her dear mother lying there, white and a little chalky, but none the less healing.

She had changed since father's death. Before she was calm and considerate, both of which she retained, but she seemed to have a certain…fetish, one might call it…with marrying off her daughters. Annabelle had married right before Mr. Ramsey past away, and this might have had something to do with the sudden personality change. None the less, she was still a sweet and caring mother, if not a little more forgetful.

"Lynn, my darling! I am so glad to see you! I have been in the utmost pain, and could barely stand it any longer!"

"I am sorry, Mama. But I daresay there is very little I can do for you."

"No matter, dearest. Come, so I may see you. I do believe you have grown twice as lovely from when I last saw you!"

Lynn smiled, automatic and thoughtless, at the comment. She had heard this phrase countless times in her youth, beginning from when her sisters where blooming in their teenage years, while she was still stuck as a gangly girl. It continued into Lynn's own adolescence, where it remained nothing more than a booster of her self-confidence. She was never pretty as a young women, and was quite aware of the fact that she remained more or less plain now.

"Thank you, Mama. Delilah said you were feeling better."

"Hardly. But the doctors said it would pass. I pray they are right." She looked at me a bit longer. "How is Ambrose?"

"Well." Lynn shifted uncomfortably. Mama had asked her three different times if she thought him a good marriage choice before, a topic Lynn was not willing to listen to again. He was almost fifty, a widower, with children who were older than her own twenty years. In her perspective, he was a good friend and good business partner, nothing more.

Thankfully, Mama said nothing and nodded her head thoughtfully. "And the company is going well, my dear?"

"Yes." Another comment that brought back memories, though this time bittersweet. Mama had asked that same question to Papa when he was still alive, and to hear it again made Lynn feel like a little child once more.

"Good, good." She glanced out the door before turning to Lynn again, motioning to come closer. "I've been hearing some odd things from the servants, things about the Price's estate in the Caribbean. They say some people are trying to seize it."

"Seize? The estate? What claim do they have?"

"I don't know the details, but from what the butler tells me, there is a man, a Derek Conway, who has been trying to take it, by force if necessary."

"Force? Who is this man?"

"A rich fellow with a plantation on the same island. He convinced the governor to give him troops to take it, but he's been thwarted three times already."

Lynn frowned, both at the terrible news and her mother's keen interest on this subject, which really was none of her business. "Who is at the estate to 'thwart' this attack?"

"No one really. The only person who lives there is the aging aunt of Mr. Price, and the house servants. A mysterious stranger has been helping, with a group of his own. Spooky, if you asked me."

"Strange, indeed," agreed Lynn.

"I thought so too," answered a different voice.

Lynn and her mother jumped at the intrusion, to see none other than Mrs. Price standing in the door way, looking annoyed. Mrs. Ramsey blushed furiously and sat up quickly. "Please pardon my loose tongue, Mrs. Price. It was not my place."

"Just remember in the future, Mrs. Ramsey," answered Mrs. Price, approaching the bed quickly.

"You see, ma'm, I thought my Lynn might be able to offer some advice. She's a clever girl."

"I know. In fact, I was thinking the same thing."

Lynn raised her eyebrows, but showed no more of her surprise than that. "What can I do to be of assistance? I hardly have a ship load of soldiers to help fend off another attack."

"No, but you do have a ship full of money, and the Ramsey Company is very influential, especially in the Caribbean, something I'm sure you're aware of."

"Indefinitely, Mrs. Price. But I fail to see your point."

"I was hoping you might, on your next trip by Antigua, be able to talk to the governor there. Tell him to _not_ lend the troops to Mr. Conway, and explain the situation to him. Threaten him with the Crown if you must; we have the connections to send its wrath to him. Or bribe him, if that is easier. Consider the bribe part of the money you owe us."

That was an undisputed fact; Mrs. Price had not needed to remind Lynn. Half of what she earned went to the Price family, for they hadn't paid their debt off yet, and anything she did in their behalf was always their money.

"I was planning to go to the colonies in four months," Lynn explained, "and stay here for as much time as I could before that. But as soon as the _Reverie_ is repaired, we will go to Antigua and talk to the governor. You do realize it would be Ambrose talking."

Mrs. Price laughed. "I hardly expected a twenty year old women to be taken seriously. And Ambrose is already well known in that part. I will write a letter as well, giving my own explanation."

"Of course, Mrs. Price. I will help you. Promise."


	3. Shopping

AN: Sorry if the story seems slow right now; I just need to lay down characters and plot, and it might take a bit longer. Don't worry, it will get better!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

It was two days before the scheduled departure, and Lynn was walking with Delilah to go see Annabelle before she left. It was a cloudy day, and both were rather sad at Lynn having to disappear so quickly. 

They arrived at the house, however, Annabelle had yet to be home, and Joshua greeted them heartily and invited them into the parlor for some tea.

"How have you been, Lillian? Annabelle never mentioned you were in town."

"Hardly surprising," Lynn answered. "She keeps her own schedule, which is quite apart from my own. Where is she right now?"

"Shopping," he said. "She has been doing quite a bit of shopping."

"Shopping?" interrupted Delilah. "But she has servants to do the shopping."

Joshua shrugged, but said nothing more, and Delilah looked over at Lynn, raising an eyebrow. Lynn understood the meaning: they needed to discuss this with Annabelle later.

"Is the Ramsey Company doing well? You sure you don't want to hand it over, retire, get married?" joked Joshua, but with hope peeking through the playful banter.

"Yes, it is doing excellent, and no, I don't intend to hand any part of it over."

"Excellent is an understatement," he continued. "I've been seeing the prices you charge for those items, and the types of items you have been importing. I daresay it is doing better than when your father was running it. Too bad you aren't a man, or I'd hire you in an instant."

Lynn smiled hesitantly. Comments like that were common, but she was never sure whether to take it as a compliment; in fact, she found it rather insulting. But she knew the people meant well, so she kept her mouth shut.

"You are too kind, Joshua. I'm doing no better than my father did, the prices are just inflated. And I finally gained some access to the far east, and the East India Trading Company. We have been doing quite a bit of business."

"I heard they gave some lucrative offers. And you did not take them, I see."

"Oh, heavens, can we not talk about something more interesting?" whined Delilah. "You and your business Lynn! That's all you can talk about!"

"Apart from you, Delilah, it is the only thing happening in my life at the moment."

"You hate it. You told me the other day. And I know you, Lynn. You don't enjoy working, you like to read and dream. You haven't changed at all since we were children."

Lynn rolled her eyes and sipped her tea quietly. "I don't hate the work; but it is a little overbearing sometimes."

Joshua chuckled. "Twenty years old…you're still a child."

"Hardly," laughed Delilah, and Lynn grinned slightly at the comment. Their mother would use to tease Lynn as a little girl, saying there were three adults in the house and two children.

The door was heard opening, and soon Annabelle walked in, flushed and gorgeous as ever. "Darling!" exclaimed Joshua happily, and soon the two were embracing in an affectionate hug. "How was your shopping?"

"Shopping? Oh, I couldn't find anything. The dresses were all so dull."

"You already have ten different outfits," mumbled Lynn.

"One more doesn't hurt," defended Annabelle, her voice slightly higher than normal. Lynn raised her eyebrows as she took another sip at her tea.

"Well, I do believe that this is my cue to leave," chuckled Joshua. "I have business of my own to attend to. Good day, ladies!"

The jovial fellow exited, leaving the three sisters in the parlor.

"You have a stain on your hem, Annie," stated Lynn. "It looks fresh."

Annabelle looked down quickly, and shuffled the folds in her dress to hide it.

"And you're hair is a mess," noted Delilah sharply. Annbelle brought up her hand to feel it, then put it down again, pouting a little.

"Where were you really?" insisted Delilah.

"Shopping."

"You are a tremendously terrible liar. Tell the truth."

Lynn watched her sister fidget with careful hazel eyes. "Ambrose thought he saw you by the docks, yesterday at least. And Joshua mentioned you have been shopping a lot lately."

Annabelle's attention was caught. "I haven't talked to Ambrose!"

"Were you by the docks?"

"Yes," she replied, after a short pause. She didn't meet Lynn's steely gaze.

"Where?"

Delilah was tapping her foot impatiently. "Stop that, Del," grumbled Annabelle. "I was at the _Red Haven_."

Both younger sisters gasped in abhorrence. "You were _there_?" snarled Delilah. "We have respectability to uphold! For anyone to find you there in that hell hole--"

"We're just maids! No one cares what a maid does!"

"Our father was a greatly respected man! If anyone were to see you there, it would send Mama to her grave! We would be shamed! That is a place for thieves and criminals of the worst kind!" hissed Delilah menecingly.

"My name isn't Ramsey anymore, it's Taylor."

"All the worse! Joshua is of high standing here. You could ruin him!"

"What were you doing there?" interjected Lynn, before Delilah became too passionate.

"Talking."

"And?"

Annabelle stared stonily at her sisters, smoothing out her yellow dress defiantly. The ticking of the grandfather clock could be heard in the other room as the sisters faced off.

"You didn't…" gasped Delilah.

"No, no, goodness no. I just…kissed a few men. They were drunk, and wanted me to kiss them. I figured to would be okay."

"You have a husband, Annie," scolded Lynn. "And he loves you."

"I love him too, but he can be so boring! And these men...they have such interesting stories."

"Good grief, Annie! What more can you ask for than to be loved?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Delilah opened her mouth to respond, but Annabelle continued. "You should be grateful, Lynn. I heard some very interesting news while I was there."

"I hardly would think it to be important," said Delilah.

"Oh, be quiet!" huffed Annabelle. "It involves your company. I suppose you'll hear of it soon enough anyway."

"Well?" urged Lynn. Though she didn't want to admit it, she was intrigued. She knew Annabelle would say nothing more of her visit to the tavern anyway.

"Three of your ships have been sunk in the past three weeks, by a pirate."

Lynn sighed wearily. A ship a week. That was quite a bit of money. She could probably make up for the losses soon enough, but chances were, she could loose more ships. "Wait, by one pirate?"

"Yes. Name of Jack Sparrow. You've already heard of him, no doubt."

"Jack Sparrow? _Him_? Why my company?"

"You're big, rich, and powerful," explained Delilah. "Hardly a surprise. Pirates love that type of prey."

"But why _my_ ships? There's thousands of other ships in the Caribbean!"

"You didn't let me finish," whined Annabelle, jutting out her lip like a five year old child. "Not only was he sinking those ships, he would take the entire crew, and drop them off at the nearest port! Wouldn't kill one!"

Delilah and Lynn exchanged confused glances. "So…he's a friendly pirate?" Delilah suggested tentatively.

"Pirates aren't just _friendly_, Del. But I can't think of an ulterior motive. Are you sure you heard this right, Annie?"

"Positive."

"Hmm. I suppose I need to talk to Ambrose about this."

The three sisters looked at each other, not speaking, but enjoying the silence, which was broken by Delilah. "If I ever hear of you in the _Red Haven_ again, Anna…"

"You won't. Promise."

Lynn almost smiled at the exchanged. Delilah and she may have been the younger siblings, but they were constantly watching out for Annabelle, who behaved more or less like a ten year old girl the majority of the time. It was a tiresome reality, but one Lynn had more or less resigned herself to. Taking care of Annabelle was part of her life, and she was willing to do anything to protect her sister.

* * *

"Lynn, I have something I've been wanting to tell you!" giggled Delilah as they left Annabelle's house two hours later. 

"What is it?"

"I didn't want to tell Annabelle; it would be around the town before nightfall. But…I'm engaged!"

Lynn smiled and hugged Delilah, squealing with delight. "That's wonderful, Del! What's his name? Do I know him?"

"Maverick Rowely! He's heavenly!"

"Maverick? That's an odd name. Where does he work?"

"He's with the East India Trading Company. And advancing fast. Oh, I wish you could meet him, but he's coming here in a month, and you will be leaving in two days! If only you could stay for the amount you planned."

"I know, but I promised Mrs. Price that I would go to Antigua. She's worried about this Conway fellow, and I'm curious about the mysterious stranger who has been helping them."

"Where were those ships that were attacked? The one's that Captain Sparrow took?"

"Oh…two were by Savanna, but the third was close to Antigua. Why?"

"Curious. I just wondered if those sailors he was dropping off might have joined up with the stranger when they discovered what was happening. Many have been working for the Ramsey Company for ages, and are just as loyal to the Price family."

"I never considered that," mused Lynn. "I can't wait to tell Ambrose. He'll be interested in all of this. And he has had more experience with pirates. Did you know that when he was eighteen, he joined up with a pirate crew? But when he talked back to the captain, he was marooned, and my grandfather found him."

"He doesn't know anything about Jack Sparrow though," rambled Delilah, twirling once as they walked down the street. "I've heard the most amazing stories about him, and some very frightening ones too. He's sacked Nassau without firing a signal shot!"

"At least he isn't violent," countered Lynn slyly.

Delilah huffed indignantly. "He's also impersonated a clergyman, a French noble man, and a duke! Not to mention the countless times he has escaped from jail."

"Everyone is capable of a little acting, and many jails are ill guarded. I can't say I see anything remotely amazing about this man so far. He's just a pirate."

"He's been marooned twice--"

"Doesn't say much for his captaining abilities."

"--and escaped. Some say he's been made chief of a cannibalistic tribe. He's avoided the agents of the EITC for years; he's taken a whole fleet of the navy single handedly; he's been taken captive in Singapore, and escaped; he's--"

"Delilah, what exactly are you trying to prove?"

Lynn's sister narrowed her eyes. "I just want you to be aware if you run into Jack Sparrow. He's targeting your ships, that's obvious enough. But…I really don't want something to happen to you. I would hate that.'

"Delilah, I'm going to be fine. The chances of me meeting with Sparrow are very thin. Look how much ocean there is to cover!"

"I know but…" Delilah faced Lynn and grasped her shoulders. "…you are the head of the house now."

"No, Mama is. She's our mother. Don't be ridiculous, Delilah."

"Technically, yes, but you are the one running the company. Earning the money. Looking out for Annabelle. Taking care of mother. Like Papa always did. It just feels like you've replaced him, and if something were to happen to you…everything would just fall apart."

Lynn looked down at her older sister, so vulnerable and weak at the moment. In truth, she hardly felt like the head of the family; it had always been Delilah she had followed, and she was still following. The realization that her position mattered _this much_ for her elder sister was a nasty shock, and one she did not want to face.

But she kept her face calm and smiled slightly and hugged Delilah reassuringly. "Thank you, Del. Don't fret; I will be careful, and I will come back for you and Annabelle and Mama. Promise."


	4. The New Jacob Price

AN: Hello again! I am happy to say that once again, _Given_ is in the making! Thank you for being patient as I finished my first story (excited jumps: I finally finished a story). For any one who might have read _All For You, _I hope this story is as much to your liking...if you liked it (which I assume if you read it all the way through). Enough of my rambling; I am just excited to finally be starting on this story again. I must say, Lynn is a much more fascinating character to write as opposed to any so far...well, out of the ones the public has read. I daresay she just might be my favorite invention of a character...so far. I am quite capable of creating ones I could like much more.

*Historical Note: _Historically speaking, five eight was extremely tall for a women, and average for a man. This also happens to make Jack extremely tall. It would be well to note, however, that because of both their situations in a rich household, Lynn and Jack would certainly have the opportunity to grow that tall because they weren't starving or lacking in nutrition, as was a great majority of the population._

As always, enjoy.

* * *

A month later found Lynn Ramsey making her course for Antigua in the pristine waters of the Caribbean. The _Reverie_ was a fast ship, not a merchant ship by design, and the passage through the Atlantic had been simplistic enough, with few set backs to stop the voyage. Delilah had reminded Lynn of her worries the day of departure, and once again Lynn assured all would be well. They were well armed, fast, and equipped with some of the best sailors ever to be out at sea.

And so she stood, straight and dutiful, at the helm, looking across the vast horizon in serenity. It was a ritual she practiced every morning before the sun rose; a time where distractions were naught, and worries non-existent. It was the time of day where everything is still, peaceful, quiet, frozen in time. The broad sky, the rich wind flitting between the sails arrogantly, the smell of the ocean gliding the ship along the perfectly endless sea; everything just existed, no thoughts to suggest otherwise.

This was what Lynn craved most while sailing. The chance to become part of the whole, to just engulf herself in nothing. What it was, she could never name, but it was addictive, demanding, passionate, and impossible all at once.

The moment was broken by the rising sun, gorgeous and amazing in its own right, but bringing reality with the warming rays. Men climbed out on deck to begin the day's work, all tired but with good humor and strength to accompany it. The sun rose higher and higher and higher until it was only but two hours until noon.

Lynn had moved little during these hours. Indeed, there was very little she was capable of on a ship, other than getting in the way. As when she was little, Lynn could read maps clearly, and often would navigate her way through the oceans; beyond that, she was useless.

It was a hot day, and Lynn had opted to wear a loose, plain yellow dress with a large brimmed straw hat, which hid the large bun that she always wore. If not for her dress, Ambrose noted that she looked an awful lot like Mr. Ramsey, except much more feminine. Naturally, Lynn took this as a compliment, though there was a twinge of regret she couldn't have inherited the blonde hair and perfect face of her mother.

"Ship in sight. No colors raised!" yelped the sailor in the crow's nest.

"Is it armed?" Lynn yelled back, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"Heavily!"

Ambrose, who was holding the helm as always, sighed wearily. "Well, it had to happen one time or another."

Lynn gritted her teeth frustratingly, but remained silent; he was talking about pirates, of course. The chances of this being Delilah's pirate was slim, but there had been a great increase in other pirates the past few months. The fluctuations were normal, when the lawgivers began to slack in their duties, but Lynn had usually made sure to steer _her_ ships clear during times like these. Unfortunately, this incident was not one to be avoided.

The _Reverie_ had been attacked three times before. It was not much armed compared to many ships, but it was fast, which could shake most followers. The first time that pirates had gotten them, it had not occurred to anyone that they ought to hide Lynn. Of course the men protected her (her skill with a sword was non-existent), but the pirates knew she was there, and when they won, they took her captive as a ransom. Thankfully, they were not aware she was head of the company, or it would have been a different situation entirely. But Ambrose, the wonderful man he was, sneaked up on the men during the night and rescued Lynn, after which he promptly disabled the rudder (all of the pirates were drunk from celebrating).

The next two times, they were more careful. It had been agreed the crew would allow the pirates to board without a fight, but Lynn would remain stationed in the middle of the crew. As long as she kept her hair away in the hat, she would not attract notice to careless eyes. It had worked twice before, and Lynn was certain it would work this time.

This, of course, was something that she had not mentioned to Delilah before leaving. While she dreamed of being kidnapped by pirates, Delilah could be such a worry wart when it came to her younger sister. In fact, Lynn did not tell Delilah many of the things that had happened to her; like when they had almost sunk in a storm, or when they were stranded for three weeks because they had lost the sails, in the same storm. Or when she had been threatened by the lunatic in Boston. Or stranded on a deserted island for a week after being tossed over board during another storm.

It was only sensible, as far as Lynn was concerned. While these events would send Delilah swooning (unless it was happening to _her_, in which case her face would certainly light up in excitment), Lynn was hardly affected in the same way. It was traumatizing, yes, but there was always something one could learn from such things. Like to bring extra sails, or always carry a knife for protection, or…well, there was very little to learn from being stranded on an island, except how to be patient and wait. All in all, Lynn simply looked at the situations in a practical view.

"They have raised the Jolly Roger!" announced the man in the crow's nest. "Shall we raise the white flag now?"

"Of course, Mr. Branson!" answered Lynn. She turned to Ambrose, smiling slightly. "Shall I get into formation?"

"That would be a wise idea, Miss Ramsey," Ambrose chuckled. "I would hate to explain to your mother why I was to return without you."

* * *

After twenty more minutes, the crew of the opposing ship was beginning to board, looking rather shocked and extremely confused about the situation. Hardly surprising; they were probably expecting a great resistance, especially from the flag ship of the Ramsey Company, but none seemed to be complaining.

As planned, Lynn was well nestled between two very large sailors, who she believed were twins. Sighing in frustration, she tried to peek around one of their shoulders to get a glimpse of _who_ was on her ship. There was only one disadvantage to this situation; Lynn could see almost nothing of what was happening. If she ever had a weakness, it was a curiosity for new things, and attacking pirates were new things, bad or not. As said, Lynn hated not understanding what was happening around her.

Ambrose was, as usual, negotiating business. She wondered how many people were aware that it was she who actually ran the company, for no one would ever take a twenty year old girl seriously; it was she who told Ambrose who to sell to, who to buy from, who to take loans from, and so forth. It was she who had told Ambrose what to say at this very moment, and she listened as he repeated it perfectly, word for word.

"This is the deal: you may take half of all supplies we have on board, and we sail away and don't tell the authorities of this occurrence."

Apparently, telling the authorities was a concerning matter for pirates; the past two attacks had taken this negotiation peacefully.

"Mister, you aren't talking to the captain," answered the pirate. Lynn poked her head out and lifted her hat slightly. The fellow was portly, with large sideburns and a rugged, sun-burnt face that seemed very amused at the moment. Noticing that she was exposed, one of the twins shifted his weight so that Lynn was once again blinded by his white, if not grubby, shirt. She clenched her teeth in frustration but did nothing more.

"Then who is the captain?" asked Ambrose after an awkward pause.

"That would be me," answered another man, who was now coming up from below deck, swinging a gold chain on his finger. "And we didn't attack to get loot, directly anyway."

Ambrose's gazed flickered over to Lynn, or where Lynn should be (only the smallest part of her eye was exposed), for a half second, but soon was focused on the captain once again. "No?"

"No, fortunately for you. I only have interest for the captain of this vessel."

At this, Lynn strained herself over the twins to see the other man, the Captain. He was rather tall, certainly taller than her own five eight and a quarter (exactly), with long black dreadlocks and olive tan skin. His dress was odd and obscure, and he moved in a jaunty way that seemed to say that he owned the world. He turned to look over the ship, smiling crookedly, a smile that…looked terribly familiar. Lynn blinked. She had seen that smile before, but she couldn't remember where. She had seen many smiles in her lifetime.

Ambrose shifted uncomfortably, but Lynn suspected only she noticed this discomfort. "The captain? Well, I am the captain."

The pirate whipped around and came within three inches of Ambrose's face, frowning. "No, you aren't. You are _not_ Mr. Ramsey." The pirate squinted, as if trying to read his mind. "No, no. You are someone entirely different."

Ambrose was flabbergasted, and Lynn just as much, causing her to entirely change her position so that she might see the fellow better. What did this man, this _pirate_, know of her father? _Why _did he want her father?

"Well?" the pirate prodded, still twirling the chain. "May I commune with the said Mr. Ramsey?"

"Uh…no."

The two men looked at each other; Ambrose biting his cheek worriedly, trying not to look at Lynn, and the pirate arrogantly, creases lining his brow in impatience. "Do you know who I am?" Ambrose shook his head slowly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Lynn stifled a gasp. Delilah's pirate! So, there had been a reason for targeting her ships; it was to find her father!

Some of the pirate crew must have heard her outbreak, for many looked in that direction, but as planned, overlooked _her_. Sparrow was pacing slowly around her huddled crew, scrutinizing each one. "It would be greatly appreciated if the true Mr. Ramsey were to appear," he growled.

The deck was deathly silent, and Lynn pushed her hat farther down as the pirate captain scanned over her, missing her existence. Her body was still and quiet, but her mind was spinning out of control. What did this man want with her father? Why? Was it for the company? But pirates had no interest in honest trade…

"I will give him ten second to show himself," Sparrow finally announced, pulling out his pistol and pointing it directly in Lynn's direction, though hardly intentional, "or me crew and myself will blast you all to pieces. Savvy?"

"He's dead."

The voice was of one of her crew, and though hardly tactful, was not exactly harmful. Sparrow looked in the direction of the voice thoughtfully, stroking his braided goatee. "Dead? That's very interesting."

He turned back to Ambrose. "So then, I suppose that _does_ make you the captain, now doesn't it? Very well, then."

Lynn could see Ambrose tense up. He was the type of man who liked things to be a certain way, and if anything was changed, it was very stressful. This was not the way things were suppose to be happening. Despite his efforts to restrain himself, he glanced, or more closely flicked, his eyes in her direction.

But Sparrow noticed it, (though Lynn highly doubted it was _she _that he saw), and quickly pushed his way through until he was two men away from her. Eyes searching, he scanned the area once more, looking for who knew what. Once again his gaze skipped over Lynn…then came back to rest on her.

He was close enough to see she was wearing a dress, and his surprise was evident immediately. The first man whom Ambrose had talked to came close and peered curiously as well. "A women! I'll be damned!" he muttered.

Sparrow took a step closer, and the twins on either side of her came in front to make a massive wall that practically swallowed Lynn whole. She could hear the pirate captain chuckle evilly.

"A women indeed. A very _important_ women, at that. I suggest you both move." A click of a pistol preparing to fire was heard.

Lynn wanted to slapped herself and the men standing in front of her. The idea had been to _not_ be noticeable, and moving to protect her was as obvious as shooting off a musket, waving a red flag, and announcing her arrival with blaring trumpets.

The men didn't move, as the good sailors they were.

"I give only one warning," growled Sparrow. "This is it."

"Move," muttered Lynn, trying to budge the hulks out of her way. They did as asked, reluctantly. Lynn, squinting once again from the glare of the sun, lifted her face to look at the captain, worried and nervous, but managing to look rather disdainful about the whole situation regardless. "Well?"

Sparrow stared down at her, an eyebrow raised, mouth hanging slightly open. It was hard to read his expression, but from what Lynn could gather, he was stupefied, yet amused at the absurdity of it all.

Lynn crossed her arms and cocked her head, much like she used to as a small child, a habit she had never quite broken whenever her patience was teetering. Sparrow blinked, and made to remove the hat, which Lynn promptly stopped. "Well?" she repeated.

"Who are you?" he finally asked.

"I hardly think that matters. What do you want? With the former captain of this vessel, nonetheless."

"Who you are matters quite a bit. Take off your hat."

"No."

Sparrow sighed and pointed the pistol at her chest. "Take the hat off."

Lynn narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but did as requested, revealing her now sloppy bun that hung from her head.

The expression on his face changed, this time to honest shock, but was wiped clean in an instant. "I don't suppose you have a reason for being on this ship."

"Not one that concerns you."

Sparrow grabbed Lynn's chin roughly and pulled it toward him so that their eyes were only inches way. This time, he was really studying her, as if trying to find some clue to a mystery.

Lynn tried not to focus too much on him, but there was something hauntingly familiar about this man, and she couldn't shake the feeling, no matter how she tried. After about a minute, he released her. "Who owns the Ramsey Company now?"

Lynn flared her nose and steeled her gaze. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you know." When Lynn made no answer, he grabbed her right hand only to see the seal, which was on a ring. It had been her father's seal, now hers, and at its discovery, Lynn knew all was lost.

Yet he did nothing. Instead, he stared at the ring, touching it lightly, then facing Lynn again. He didn't say anything, just stared.

Suddenly, Sparrow broke out laughing, and it wasn't evil or conniving, just laughing. Both crews were staring, and Lynn peeked over at Ambrose, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He shrugged back, though his worry was evident on his lined expression.

Sparrow stopped and stepped back to look at her again, as if he were seeing a painting for the second time, and it had changed drastically. "So you are in charge of the company."

Lynn narrowed her eyes and paused before answering. "Yes. I fail to see the humor, though." The statement itself was an absurdity; of course it would be amusing that a young women was running a large merchant company. Of course, this didn't concern Lynn in the least.

He came closer, so once again their faces were mere inches away. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"

"Uh…Jack Sparrow."

"Captain, luv."

_"Well, well, if it isn't Lillian Ramsey, messing up my father's maps again. What _are_ you doing, luv?" _

Lynn took a step back, clutching her straw hat tightly. No. Just no.

She walked over to the railing to look at the name of the ship. _Black Pearl_.

No.

Whipping around, she saw Sparrow smirking, one that could melt a heart if he tried hard enough.

No.

"No," Lynn stated, practically strangling her poor hat at this point. "Just no."

"No what, luv?" He sauntered over to her, towering over, chuckling. "You know, actually, I'm not that surprised that you took it over. You always were the more clever of the three."

Lynn could feel her head spinning. "Jacob!" she finally gasped. "_Jacob Price_?"

It was soft, and she doubted that anyone else had heard her, though all were listening intently from a distance.

"And you didn't believe I could captain a ship."

"You…you…a _pirate_!"

"I can't remember a time when you were at loss for words."

Lynn gaped in astonishment, nearly dropping her hat. It was not often she was surprised, but this was an occurrence she just could not believe. Jacob Price, the same bully who could never stop chasing Delilah was here, ransacking her ship.

She wanted to slap him, for many things actually, but mostly for doing this to her, attacking the _Reverie_. "How dare you!" was all she managed to spit out, and while she raised her hand initially, put it back down in a clenched fist.

Jacob, or Jack, clearly had not been excepting this reaction. "What?"

"For attacking me!"

"_I _didn't know you were on the ship."

"But you knew! Ramsey Company! You _knew_!" Lynn was openly glaring at him now, her arms securely folded over her chest, her stare more deadly than ever. "Well, get off."

Jack, or Jacob, Lynn wasn't sure what to call him, smiled devilishly at her orders. "I came to take away the captain. I intend to do exactly that."

Lynn narrowed her eyes and, involuntarily, took a step back. "Don't you dare."

"I always dare," whispered Sparrow. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her to the plank connecting the two ships, but with no lack of struggling from the young lady, though she wasn't emitting any screams, except maybe ones of frustration. "She's the one we want. Let's go." Turning to Ambrose, he said, "And if you follow, worse things will happen."

So Lynn was taken, against her will, into the biggest change of her existence.

* * *

Lynn watched with trepidation as the _Reverie_ disappeared to the horizon, squinting under the straw hat that she had replaced. She wasn't frightened for her life, far from it, considering that she now knew this to be Jacob Price, but she was worried as for what would happen next. And what her mother would think.

Jacob came to stand next to her, smiling down. "Welcome, Miss Ramsey, to my humble ship. Or do you still prefer to be called Lynn?"

"Lynn. However, _you_ may call me Miss Ramsey."

"Tut tut, luv. No need to be cruel. We _do_ know each other."

"Hardly. And I would have thought that you might have grown out of calling women that ridiculous name," sniffed Lynn, straightening the folds in her dress with a critical eye. The whole skirt was rather dirty now and in desperate need of a wash.

"And still speaking your mind, I see. One would think you would come to your senses and learn to be quiet. I suppose you still aren't married?"

"No," Lynn answered tartly. "I don't see any need in rushing, however."

"Almost exactly what I was expecting you to say, luv."

"The last time you spoke with me I was eight. You couldn't possibly expect me to say anything."

"I do believe you have only changed in height. Otherwise, you still have that terrible bun you always wore, and your just as stubborn as always." Jacob smiled cheekily, and Lynn would not have been surprised if he had bent down and pinched her cheek.

Suppressing her annoyance at being treated as no more than a child, Lynn sighed, "Oh yes; I forgot you always got the bad end of my temper."

Jacob snorted and leaned on the railing next to Lynn leisurely. "I could never understand then, or now. Your other sisters were perfectly wonderful to me. Especially Delilah…"

Lynn frowned deeply and crossed her arms, still watching her ship, which had turned into a small figurine in the distance. "You bullied me, and deserved it, fair and square. Though, I must say I'm surprised you remember Delilah after twelve years."

"Has it been twelve years? I suppose she must be married."

"Engaged actually. Annabelle is married."

"And you, the old maid. Just as I predicted."

Lynn tilted her head toward the man, openly glaring. "You're despicable. Not to mention it's hardly any of your business whether I'm married or not."

"Sorry, but with that contrary look and that stiff bun, it's only the truth." His eyes were dancing with laughter as Jacob stroked the railing, but Lynn's scowl deepened, creating an altogether frightening expression that would have made many a person reconsider crossing this woman. Jacob, of course, knew better; Lynn would almost never lose her temper in public, if she could help it. He was safe, and his pert grin widened.

"We aren't getting anywhere with all this bantering. Tell me why you wanted to kidnap my father."

"Always to the point."

"This isn't a moment for remembering things, Mr. Price. I expect an explanation."

"Then why don't we have a pleasant chat in my quarters, _Miss _Ramsey. Surely, you won't object?"

Lynn rolled her eyes in an extremely childish manner and followed Jacob to his cabin, her stiff gait a stark contrast against his jaunty walk. He opened the door regally and waved her in, bowing as she passed.

She ignored the obvious mocking gesture and proceeded to sit herself down in a chair opposite of the desk, arranging her dress carefully as to hide the stains from her own sight (they were extremely distracting if not embarrassing). Jacob plopped down in front of her, bringing one leg up onto the arm rest, taking an open bottle of rum, and emptying it before smiling grandly. "What do you think?"

Lynn sighed and looked around her. There were maps scattered everywhere and dust settling on the bookcase that held a number of odd trinkets and sketches. Light poured in from the large window that was over his cot, giving a pleasant glow to the otherwise messy area. Lynn had never been bugged by clutter, which was the only thing wrong with the room. In fact, she rather liked it. But this was Jacob, the same boy whom she could never actually _agree _with. "It could use a maid."

"Then I suppose you'd be perfect for the job."

Lynn scowled. "That was rude. You make it sound like it's some terrible, dirty job."

"It is a dirty job. You have to deal with dust and dirt and who knows what else. But that was a terrible comment about my living space."

"It was true, and you asked for my opinion. I simply gave it."

"I'm sorry I asked then," Jacob yawned, leaning into the chair. "Do you still want to know why you're here?"

"Naturally."

He smiled, the gold teeth glinting mischievously in the light. "You aren't going to like it."

Lynn raised one eyebrow delicately as if the comment was ridiculous. "I haven't liked much of what you've said, Jacob."

"Oh, so we _are_ on a first name basis!" he said, his smile widening. "Excellent, I was worried for a moment, but I knew you'd come around. But it's Jack now, not Jacob."

"Good grief, Jacob, that's your name, and I intend to call you that."

"If you won't call me Jack, then you may call me Captain. I, however, fully intend to call you Lillian."

Lynn huffed in frustration and tucked away a stray hair. "If you insist on titles, then you ought to be calling me Captain as well."

"A true captain knows how to captain a ship. I doubt you could do such a feat."

She narrowed her eyes, but remained silent, crossing her arms ever harder.

"Take that hat off. It makes you look silly, especially since you're inside now."

She removed the straw hat slowly, letting her hair fall out of its bun. Jacob stared at her silently, watching her every move. "What is it?" Lynn asked quietly, a little embarrassed to have his eyes on her. She was embarrassed when anyone stared at her since she was hardly used to it.

"I can't remember you without a bun. You're rather pretty with it down."

"I…what did you say?" gasped Lynn.

"Don't sound so angry, luv," laughed Jacob after taking a sip from the bottle. "It's called a compliment, something you probably aren't used to getting."

Though Lynn remained motionless, the comment stung, and memories of her sisters came to her mind; their beauty, their smiles, the looks they could give. Then there was her, the ugly duckling that tagged along. The dark one. The awkward one. The quiet one. That was all Jacob Price had seen in her eight-year old self, and all he could remember.

She wanted to scream at him, tell him she was a lady now, and was quite used to getting compliments. But it was clear he still saw her as a little child, which only made Lynn more indignant. It hurt. But he wasn't to know that.

So, after a moment, she smiled sweetly. "No, I am not accustomed to being given shallow compliments. Most gentleman have the decency to look beyond my face. But you can hardly be called a gentleman, so I suppose I _must _forgive you."

Jacob cocked an eyebrow, but Lynn recognized the familiar silence that was even present when she was so young. Jacob was one of the few she could match with words, and many arguments had been fought in the years they were together. Sighing, Lynn took the loose hair and began twisting it, then twirling it together into the bun once again.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Putting your hair into that horrible bun. It makes you look like a sour-faced governess," said Jacob. "And I've had my fair share of those."

"It's convenient," Lynn retorted. "You can't tell me how to wear my hair."

"It's my ship, and I can tell anyone anything I want. Captain's orders."

"I'm not part of your crew," she continued. After a pause, she added, "It's just my hair."

Jacob sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's like you're eight years old again."

"But I'm not. I've grown up, in case it wasn't obvious. I'm twenty, so I expect you to treat me like an adult."

Jacob smirked dangerously, leaving his seat to come around to Lynn's. "An adult…of course. I've been doing this all wrong." Taking Lynn's arms, he dragged her up so that their faces were mere inches apart.

Lynn, in an entirely involuntary action, gasped loudly and clutched at her chest. "_What _do you think you're doing?"

"Treating you like a lady, luv."

"This is _not _how you treat a lady. Get your hands off of me."

Jacob grinned wickedly, and for the first time, Lynn noticed an odd glint in his eye, one she had never seen before. It wasn't threatening or dangerous, but puckish and…roguish. His face was the face of Jacob Price, but there were new lines and scars. The skin wasn't the same pampered tone of a wealthy young man, but a sea-hardened and sun-bleached color. This was no longer an eighteen year old boy, but a grown man with a history and stories to his name.

And the person who stood in front of her now was Jack Sparrow, _not_ Jacob Price. That persona was gone forever.

"Let go of me, Jack," Lynn repeated quietly, if not a little dangerously.

He did no such thing, but looked at her carefully, as if trying to decide whether her sudden change in temperament was for the better or worse. "Yes, you're definitely taller," he muttered before letting her go. Then he stepped back.

Lynn, who was quite baffled at this last interaction, sat back down and began smoothing her hair again to set it in a bun. "I told you to stop that," Jack sighed.

"And I told you it's more convenient. It will turn into a gigantic knot otherwise."

"Then braid it or something. I can't stand that hideous bun."

Weighing the pros and cons, Lynn decided she would get farther by fulfilling his absurd orders, tying the hair at the nap of her neck to let it flow freely over her back, but not before giving him an icy look. "Well, now that we've jumped the biggest hurdle of how my _hair_ is to be arranged, why don't we discuss ever so less important topic of why you kidnapped me."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And I always thought you were smart."

"Not psychic."

He sighed and took another deep drought of his rum (a new bottle now) before looking at her. "You are the sole owner of a very big company with lots of money. You also happen to be my prisoner. I trust you to make a connection."

Indeed, it took very little time for Lynn to realize what Sparrow was suggesting, and her face became rigid with anger. "How dare you use me as a ransom for my family."

"I was counting on it being Mr. Ramsey. I doubted he would have actually recognized me."

"But you know us! How could you be so…so...heartless!"

Jack frowned. "I wasn't going to ask for much, just enough to stir some trouble with your company. People might even become more interested in you because of it."

"People don't know I exist," answered Lynn sharply.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "_I_ know you do."

She was silent at the comment, realizing the double-meaning that had been set. What Lynn had _actually _meant was that people were not aware of her as head of the company. What Jack had thought was people were not aware of her in general. The fact that he was willing to say something like that in her defense made Lynn soften toward him.

But only a little.

"Of course," he continued, "I would have to be aware. I doubt that you would have ever let me forget. You could be so obstinate sometimes."

So much for a defense, thought Lynn. For a moment, it seemed like he was actually being nice, but all he could see was her as eight years old. That was all he was going to see, she understood that now. That and the ugly ducking.

"So, I am a ransom. How much will you ask for?" asked Lynn, suddenly very intent on changing the subject.

"Well, when I finally have a chance to communicate, I'll decide. Where were you headed? That way, I can send a note."

"Antigua."

Jack's eyebrows went so high they were covered by his hat. "Antigua? Why there? Prices are hardly ever decent."

"I am aware of that. But we had business…from your mother."

"How intriguing. From my mother…for Antigua…" His eyes lit up with understanding, but he said nothing more. Suddenly, he stood up, looking down at Lynn as one might look at an impossible puzzle. "Very well, I was headed toward Antigua before I found you. I suppose I ought to arrange some sort of…bedding for you."

"Preferably alone."

"I didn't think you would let me do anything but that. I can rope off a section below deck for you…or, wait. There _is_ an empty storage room. You can have that."

Lynn winced at the thought of being stuck down there, trapped between rotting boards and dingy smells, but did not complain. The sailors had it no better than she, and they were running the ship.

And so began her time on the _Black Pearl_.


	5. To the Rescue

AN: This chapter is kind of an intercessory chapter...sorry if the lack of action dulls you. But I am giving you another more exciting chapter next, so no worries! Thank you so much for reading this story, and remember, I love reviews! (speaking of which, thank you for the two reviews I have received so far!)

**As a note, this story is completely disregarding any storyline from DMC or AWE, as I really pretty much despise them (though they are useful in creating other more interesting stories in my head…). Because of this, Jack's father is not actually Teague as a pirate, and his mother did not get her head shrunk by South American natives.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Four weeks later found the _Reverie_ docking once again in England to see the Ramsey family. Unfortunately, this was not to be a happy meeting, and Ambrose Macintosh was perfectly aware of this as he trudged up to Ethereal Heights, worn and dirty.

Once they had set off after the attack, Ambrose had taken not a moments rest until they reached the shores of their destination, bring their arrival quicker than usual; of course, seeing as the person in danger was Lynn, whom he considered another one of his daughters, it was vital that no time was wasted.

This did not mean he was eager to tell her mother the news however. Or Delilah and Annabelle for that matter.

Mrs. Price greeted him with her usual warmth, but became frantic when she saw his expression and practically pushed him up the stairs to Mrs. Ramsey's room. He had been secretly hoping for some more time to figure a better way of wording the news, as to not shock the still sick mother, but in no time at all he found himself facing an expectant gaze from not only Mrs. Ramsey, but Delilah and Annabelle, who both were conveniently home at the same time.

He gulped and clutched his sailors hat harder. "I had hoped to never give this type of news--"

Delilah shrieked horrifically before he could even finish the sentence. "She's dead, isn't she? No! How could she have died?" In no time at all, she was spread out on the bed crying uncontrollably and muttering incoherently.

At her daughter's untimely outburst, Mrs. Ramsey turned a deathly shade of white and it seemed that she would faint.

"No, no! Not dead!" he explained quickly, rushing to the side of the mother, intent on keeping her conscious. "She is very much alive, I promise you. However, we had an interaction at sea with…pirates. A Jack Sparrow."

"Oh my goodness!" gasped Annabelle, staring at Delilah (who had sat back up again at Ambrose's answer) with wide eyes. "It's your pirate! The one that was sinking their ships! They wanted Lynn! All this time…"

Delilah looked just the least shade indignant past her tears, certainly at the thought her younger sister must be having the adventure Delilah had always wanted, but nodded. "I warned her--"

"Actually, the initial request was for Mr. Ramsey, which we later discovered was simply a wish for the…owner of the company," corrected Ambrose. "And I should have been the one taken…but the plan went horribly wrong…" His own eyes welled up with tears at the memory. "At any rate, Lynn is now captive on a pirate vessel."

At this blunt remark, Mrs. Ramsey shrieked, loud enough to match that of Delilah's, and fell to weeping hysterically. "My…my baby! With _pirates_! Poor, poor Lynn! Who knows what could have happened to her…what could be happening…" As terrible thoughts entered her head, Mrs. Ramsey became whiter than the sheets she was on, and her cries became indistinguishable.

Ambrose stared vacantly, almost a ghost himself, at the three grieving women. "I'm am so sorry; I should have taken better care of her. If by punishing me would make anything better in your eyes--"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ambrose," sniffed Delilah, the first to really come to her senses. "You're family as much as anyone. And that awful pirate certainly had his mind set on this; if anything I've read has been correct, he wouldn't have stopped until he was finished on his terms. There's nothing you really could have done."

"What we need to do," said Annabelle suddenly, "is find a way to rescue poor Lynn."

Ambrose, with a touch of guilt, believed that must have been the first sensible thing he had ever heard Annabelle say.

"I will talk to Joshua, of course," she continued, standing up to leave. "He'll know exactly what needs to be done. His own company has encountered problems like this, and he loves Lynn as a sister." Grabbing her hat, she rushed out of the room in a flurry of skirts and clicking heels, her usual fluttery and flighty self despite the dire news.

* * *

Within two days, arrangements were made by Joshua who had full heartedly volunteered to look for his sister-in-law. Three ships were to go out; the _Fameless_, the _Crimson Star_, and the flag-ship, the _Aurelia_, on which Joshua himself would sail.

The day of departure had come, not four days since Ambrose's arrival. Ambrose had decided to stay at Ethereal Heights to watch after Mrs. Ramsey, who was worsening by the day. This was the reason only Annabelle was saying goodbye to her husband at the docks as he prepared to leave.

"Where is your sister?" Joshua questioned as he embraced his wife fondly. "It seems that you have been tied together since the news of Lynn's capture."

"I'm not sure," mused Annabelle airily. "Delilah keeps her own schedule at times like these. You know her."

Joshua smiled with understanding. It was a kind smile, not exactly one that would set a woman's heart on fire, but a loving expression that could anyone feel cared for and secure. This wasn't to say that Joshua wasn't attractive; his sturdy figure and firm jaw were not overwhelming, the opposite, in fact, causing most he met to love him immediately once they knew the person that was behind the smiling gray eyes.

Annabelle knew she was lucky to have found such a wonderful man for her husband, but sometimes he bored her. Of course, many things bored her with repetition.

Walking toward the couple was a very tall figure; a little lanky, but certainly strong nonetheless. His mousy colored hair was glinting a golden color in the sunlight, which only served to highlight his golden toned skin and honey eyes. The expression he bore was not one of disconcert, and though he was not grinning at every passerby, it was clear that he was comfortable and happy.

Dressed in the uniform of a captain, this was Maverick Rowely, the fiancé of Delilah. At thirty-three, he made a pretty picture strutting down the docks, head held high as an officer of the EITC ought to be. At Delilah's prompting, he had also volunteered to search for Lynn, and was now wishing to talk to Joshua about a strategic plan for rescuing his to be sister in law.

"Maverick Rowely, at your service," he stated pleasantly, nodding toward Annabelle politely as he shook hands with Joshua. He had met Annabelle before, through Delilah.

"Absolutely a pleasure," responded Joshua. "We don't have much time to talk; I plan to be gone by three. These are my ships, the only three I could spare."

"I regret to say I only have one," said Maverick. "But she is heavily armed. A frigate, the _Obsession_. Is she not beautiful?" he asked, pointing toward his ship.

"A fine vessel, I must agree," conceded Joshua. "I suppose she is fast?"

"Very."

"Excellent. Now, I was thinking we ought to go out within a day of each other; however, if you can out sail me, by all means go ahead. I am more concerned with finding Lynn than anything else. After all, we're in this together."

Maverick nodded silently, a smile creeping on his face at Joshua's ramblings.

"And I suppose you are familiar with Sparrow's ship? Of course you are, the EITC would be very aware of his ship…which makes everything all the better. I must say, I am awfully pleased to have you helping. I suppose it's more for getting on Delilah's good side before the marriage, eh?" Joshua winked.

Maverick nodded in response, but did not bother to answer to the indirect inquiry. He had his reasons for going of course; Joshua hardly needed to be privy to that.

"Well…I need to be setting off. Once again, a pleasure," grinned Joshua, shaking Maverick's hand heartily again. "And if you happen to see Delilah before you leave, please give her my goodbyes; I feel terrible leaving her here without the proper farewell, but I suppose she is more upset that she is not coming along for the experience." He laughed and finished, "You managed to pick the most spirited girl of the three."

Not but a hundred meters away, a thin figure in baggy trousers and a dirty shirt was boarding the _Fameless_, a large hat obscuring their face. Yet a small lock of golden hair was peeking out, and if anyone in the previous conversation had looked closely enough, Delilah would not have had the chance to sneak aboard to save the sister she loved so dearly.


	6. Ponderings of Maids and Other Things

* * *

AN: And here is the more exciting chapter!...kind of. This plot may be taking a little bit longer to get started than my first story, but I do have a lot of relationships and interactions to explain and set up before anything big happens. Sorry...

Though, there is one thing I feel I ought to expound on: as a child, Jack was a horrible bully to not only Lynn, but other younger children. I'm not sure if I made that clear yet. Now, he wasn't bullying to the extent where Lynn is deathly afraid of him (obviously), but enough to leave sour memories. I hope this clears up any future interations between the characters.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

It was a cloudless morning, and Lynn was at her usual post, near the helm. Knowing she would probably have to remain below decks most of the day had driven her decision to come out and enjoy the freedom of the wind for as long as she could. Not even a day into her captivity, and she was feeling smothered.

As the sun came up, Lynn realized that she was not alone. Jack stood at the railing, down the stairs, and was looking out to sea.

It was odd, now that Lynn had time to think about it, that she should, after twelve years, meet Jacob Price again. Except, he was hardly Jacob Price. That boy had been, in nicest terms, a bully; unsure of himself yet obsessed with keeping the appearance of individualism and self-esteem to the point of arrogance.

_This _man, Jack Sparrow, was no longer pretending. He was quite independent and sure of himself, though, it appeared, still arrogant. No, the boy had grown into a man.

At this thought, Lynn sighed. Twelve years older, and Jack could not seem to treat her as an adult. A lot more than her height had changed. She had grown more sure in herself, less of a snail hiding in her shell. Social occasions, for which she had held very little regard for as a child, were more interesting to her now...to an extent; she enjoyed talking with people, though she preferred to be familiar with them. And she was running a company! Only _twenty _and running an entire company to keep her family alive. This man had no right to consider her as an eight year old child!

"What are you doing here?"

Lynn faced the voice, Jack, a little peeved that her alienation had been ruined. "I'm standing."

"I mean at the helm. This is where the captain stays."

"I like it better here. It's easier to see…the sun."

Jack smiled and took the wheel in his hands. "I don't recall you being an early riser."

"I wasn't. It was a habit I developed when sailing."

"You sail much?"

"Of course, it's part of my job."

"Oh good. I was wondering when you would come crawling out of that library of ours."

Lynn sucked in a retort, determined not to argue with him. This was ridiculous; overreacting just because he kept bringing up old memories. People did that all the time. Her sisters teased her about it constantly, how she had been as a little girl. Serious. Quiet. Scared.

Jealous.

Yes, she had been jealous. Of her sisters; of their beauty, the ease at which they could move and dance and laugh. Why had she been so closed as a child? When she should have been laughing in the sun, why had she been hiding away in the library? Lynn didn't deny that she loved to read the books and maps, they were fascinating, but there had been times when she wanted to go run and play _more_, as did her sisters. Why didn't she? Why had she stayed inside?

"I'll be seeing you later, Captain," muttered Lynn, holding her head slightly.

"What happened to 'Jack'?" he laughed. But Lynn didn't answer, and instead went down below deck to her cabin. It wasn't until now that she realized how utterly horrible her childhood had been. It was miserable just remembering it. It seemed as if she had been an adult all her life, but Lynn could not imagine why. It had always been like that.

Always.

And, looking back at it now, Lynn hated herself for it. Little girls were suppose to be laughing and playing in the streets. But she had been locked away, watching her father sort out the prices and money. There had been times when she played with her sisters, but they were few, for Delilah would rather spend time with boys than with her younger sister. And Annabelle was always too old. How had she lost all of her childhood? Just like that?

She wanted to cry, scream, throw something at the wall, hoping that it would fix everything, make her a child again, but all Lynn did was sit straight and breath deeply. She just needed to go home; clear her mind. They loved her, that she knew for a fact.

At lunch, she emerged, serene and calm on the outside, but still fuming on the inside, mostly at being held as a ransom. After sorting out her confusion of her childhood, Lynn had remembered _what _exactly she was doing on this ship. However, it was obvious enough she could do absolutely nothing about it, so she smiled and sat down by the only person in the galley, Jack.

"The dragon appears," he mocked, bring his feet up to the table. "I was wondering if you planned on coming out."

"Your manners are despicable," sniffed Lynn, trying to edge his boots away from her plate. "I would appreciate a little room."

Jack laughed and put his feet down. "How has it been, conversing with your walls for the past few hours?"

"I was taking a nap."

To her surprise, Jack's face darkened at the comment. "While everyone else is working? I would say your manners are much worse than mine, Lillian."

"What good am I on a ship? I can't sail, I'm a lady."

Jack grinned mischievously. "I can think of something, be sure of it. You couldn't have possibly lost all of your cleaning skills."

Lynn's eyes flashed. "First, you take me as a ransom, and now you insist that you work on your ship. I've thought too much of you."

He snorted into his mug. "I won't _force_ you to work. But you won't be napping, I'll make sure of that. No one is allowed to rest until night, unless, of course, they're sick. Understand?"

Lynn took her fork and stabbed the dried meat that was on her plate. "Fine. I suppose working is better than staring at a blank wall."

"I figured you say that. I know you too well, Lillian Ramsey."

"You don't know me at all," she snarled, eyes alight. Then covering her mouth, Lynn looked away from Jack's surprised stare. That had been less than voluntary, no doubt attributed to her previous ponderings. "Excuse me," she muttered, "I didn't mean to…spray my lunch on your face."

"As you please," he said, still watching warily, but wiping his cheek at the mention of spraying. "You still know how to cook?"

"Still? Of course, but how--?"

"Don't you remember? You were baking dinner at night with the cooks. Every night, if I remember. Even at _six_, you could make fabulous bread, with help. Had you stopped?"

"Yes, I remember," answered Lynn. "I just didn't think you would."

"I have an excellent memory," bragged Jack, taking another gulp from his mug. "One of the reasons I am still alive. And, as your new task, you will be cooking on this ship. And doing laundry."

Lynn took a dainty sip of the drink before spitting it out. "If you know me as you say you do, you ought to be aware I dislike alcohol. Can I assume I am essentially the maid of your ship now?"

Jack tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose you are. You can start by cleaning these dishes." With that, he shoved his plate over to her and, with a silly smirk, strutted away from the table.

* * *

"The maid of the _Black Pearl_," grumbled Lynn as she threw another dish into the water, scrubbing furiously. "How humiliating."

While she never told her mother, maid work was something that Lynn absolutely despised. It wasn't that she hated to help people; that was perfectly okay. The problem laid in the fact that maids served for their living. To be paid, the maid had to stand there silently, awaiting for orders and doing exactly at the master of the house bided. All too easily could the house servants become dependent on their superior, trapped to work for fear of not having enough money; an event she had witnessed many times. Of course, the Ramsey family never had this problem with the Prices, but it was something Lynn never forgot.

There was another problem with being a maid, one Lynn didn't want to admit, though it was true. Maids tended to be…plain. Common. Mousy. A kind smile, but nothing more.

Everything that she had been, and still was.

Being put into this position by Jack only made this idea stronger in Lynn's mind. And his previous comment about being and old maid rang clear, and true, in her ears. Would she grow to be an old maid? It was a fear that was slowly becoming a reality, a reality Lynn wished more than anything not to have. Goodness, old maid even had the word 'maid' in it.

Of course, she shouldn't be worried. Delilah was not yet married, and she was twenty five, almost too old to wed. But that had been her own fault, jumping from man to man because they were too plain, too boring, too old, too serious, too arrogant. Delilah could have had any man of her pick, if only she weren't so picky. And after all, she _was _engaged now.

Annabelle had wedded at an older age as well, twenty two. But this was because Annabelle refused to marry anyone until Joshua proposed to her, for then she had been very much in love with him. Not that she wasn't in love with him now...but this was a thought Lynn pushed away from her mind, something to worry about later.

Lynn…she had no one. None of the men in town had ever shown interest in the youngest child of the Ramsey family. The ugly duckling.

"This is ridiculous," Lynn muttered to herself, throwing another dish into the water with such force that it splattered her dress. "Moping around like this is not going to change anything. I just need to go home. I never had problems like this when I was with my family."

But inside, she knew this was a lie. Her family loved her, and she loved them. Nothing in the world would change that. However, it didn't make the jealousy disappear, and it had always been there, even if it was small.

* * *

Jack watched the sinking sun with mixed feelings, all too complicated to understand, yet he desperately wanted to sort them all out.

It had made sense for Mr. Ramsey to be dead; he had been an old man even when he was a boy. But that didn't erase the shock at seeing Lynn on the boat.

Lynn! Of everyone on this earth to ever see again, she had been at the bottom of his list. She was the sulky sister, the one who glared at him, stuck her nose up whenever he entered the room. As a boy, he found it amusing, but over the years, as he had remembered it, it annoyed him. What a disagreeable child!

However, Lillian Ramsey was no longer a child, though it was hard for Jack to accept that. If anything, she was certainly more confident in herself, more graceful, more at ease. There had never been a little girl, but a small adult in a child's body. Now that Lynn had finally grown up, she was less…awkward. More human.

Jack sighed. Though he did not dare let her know, he was somewhat glad to see her again. Out of all the sisters, Lynn was the one whom he could feel most comfortable with, despite the age difference of ten years and the general conflict of personalities. As his mother had put it, "Every time you see the child, it seems like she's judging you with those eyes of hers. They're so deep and hidden that I never know what she's thinking."

Jack found it almost the opposite. There had been a connection that he could see. Whenever he was around Lynn, he never felt judged, but in a way, an understanding. Whatever she did, he knew it to be the truth. And whatever Lynn hid from people, Jack knew there was a reason for it. She did not play with peoples' minds for her own amusement, not when she understood how it could hurt them.

That was what made her so different from her sisters: sincerity. Lynn could be stubborn, witty, or quiet, but she was not conniving or confusing. It was a comfort to know that there was at least one person in this world that Jack could go to and get an honest answer that wasn't wrapped up in sugar.

He had been somewhat cruel to her when at Ethereal Heights. But Lynn _was_ the youngest, and therefore the easiest to tease. And it had all been in good fun; Jack hadn't meant to be mean to the poor little girl he bugged constantly. After all, there were times when they had perfectly sensible conversations.

Unfortunately, this was not the eight year old Lillian Ramsey Jack was dealing with; this was Lynn Ramsey, and adult and owner of the Ramsey Company. And that provided a few problems.

He took a moment to wonder how Lynn had managed to control such an enterprise at only twenty. Then again, of all the sisters, she had been the most practical, and certainly the most capable of such a venture. But despite the skills, Jack had a feeling she hardly enjoyed it. Which led him to wonder, why did she bother? If Lynn held no real connection to the company, aside from the fact that it had been her father's, then why did she still own it?

Sighing, Jack decided it was one of the many mysteries of the adult Lynn Ramsey. To tell the truth, he wasn't prepared to face such a person, one whom would no doubt be a battle to understand. Which is why he constantly clung to the child he knew and was familiar with. Obviously, this was not boding well with her; Jack still knew her well enough to tell when she was irritated. It was, to say the least, a great amusement.

Picking up Lynn would prove to be more exciting than he had anticipated. And Jack was looking forward to the journey, though he could hardly guess how long of a journey it could be.


	7. The Issue of Hair

AN: Hello to all! Thank you again to the few reviewers I have...you are my heroes.

Speaking of reviewers, one of you mentioned something about Lynn's beauty compared to the standards of then...something to that effect. Anyway, you were pretty much right; Lynn's "beauty problem" isn't so much that she is ugly, but that for her status (of which she is pretty high class. Her father _was_ a successful merchant after all) she is not anything much to look at. My attempts were not to make her hideous, but awkward. Tall, dark hair, tan skin...all these things were not exactly desirable (okay, I'm not really sure about the dark hair, but I did make her sisters blonde, and who do doesn't like blondes?). Anyway, I hope that gives you a clearer picture of what Lynn really is like (but, may I reiterate, she is NOT drop-dead gorgeous), not what Lynn percieves herself as.

Enjoy.

* * *

Though it had been explicitly against Jack's orders, Lynn had put her hair in a bun once again. Honestly, an order for hair arrangement? Absurd.

Afterall, as she had mentioned, it was much more practical than leaving it down, for it _did_ get in her way. While Delilah had constantly suggested she cut it shorter, it was something Lynn refused to do. Her hair, her thick, gorgeous black hair, was, in Lynn's eyes, her one redeeming quality. Though she hardly flaunted it, her hair was not something she was willing to give up. This resulted in hair that was, in length, just past her waist. Only she out of the three sisters had ever been able to achieve this length, a fact she was extremely proud of.

However, it did cause numerous problems, and seeing that she was once again cooking, Lynn was in fear that it would fall into the meal. Even if the crew did not care, she saw such carelessness as a blow to the quality of her work, something Lynn was not willing to risk. Not if Jack could cause a ruckus over it.

So she stood, stirring the great pot of stew, watching as men came into the galley, wet and worn, for a light drizzle had begun above deck. Lynn had not been able to see many of them clearly this morning, and she studied them with interest as they came to her, bowls in hand. Many simply gave a thankful smile and sat down, though there were a few that sent her a look less than respectable. All in all, Lynn judged she could manage them for the next few days.

"'Ello, Miss Ramsey," muttered a large man with a friendly smile. "I'd be Mr. Gibbs, first mate of the Captain."

"Pleasure to meet you, Gibbs," answered Lucy, her shy, almost nonexistent smile becoming slightly wider.

He sniffed at the steam coming off of the bowl. "Ahh…that smells divine. I've been wantin' a good cook for awhile. Cotton is a fine fellow," he motioned to a man with a parrot on his shoulder, "but his skills with food could be better. He's thankful for your taking over as well."

Lynn watched Cotton curiously, noticing how he silently ate though the men around him were laughing uproariously about something. "Doesn't seem like a very talkative fellow."

Gibbs smiled and shrugged. "Well, you see, he can't. His tongue was cut out, poor devil."

"Then how do you know he's thankful?"

"His parrot told us."

Lynn stared at Gibbs blankly, then closed her eyes. "His _parrot _told you?"

"Yes, that's about it."

Lynn nodded in response, but did nothing more.

"I'll be seeing you around, Miss Ramsey," finished Gibbs, taking another sniff of the stew, completely oblivious to Lynn's discomfited look at the parrot. She did not enjoy birds of any type. And she found the fact that the men listened to it, on behalf of one of their own, somewhat odd.

The few men behind Gibbs smiled in relief as he finally left and sat down, and then crowded around the pot, desperate to get some of her stew, leaving Lynn to stand there with an expression of slight disgust at the pushing and shoving before her. She had not grown up with men in the house, and therefore was accustomed to better manners than was being portrayed here. The few days she was going to be on the ship were going to be long, even if not dangerous.

Finally, Jack came sauntering down the stairs, dripping with rainwater while smiling triumphantly. Then again, he always seemed to have worn that smile.

It lasted until he came up for his share of the dinner, when he noticed the bun again. Sighing, and eyes flashing dangerously, he set his bowl down and faced Lynn, who had backed up against the counter, spoon in front of her as a weak defense, but otherwise firm and straight.

"We have already discussed this, Lillian," said Jack, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Lynn crossed her arms and cocked her head. "It's my _hair_. What does that matter to you?"

"A great deal, actually."

"I put it in a bun, _Captain_, because I did not want it to get into the stew. Unless you would have preferred to eat it. Which I can, of course, arrange."

"Let me explain," began Jack, placing his hands on the counter on either side of Lynn, "how a ship functions. There is the crew, a sturdy band of hard, diligent workers." At the comment, every man in the galley cheered heartily. "This crew is under the direction of _me_. The captain. I give orders, they do them. No questions. Now, when a man _does_ question my orders, or refuses to execute them, there is a punishment."

"I am, one, not a man," countered Lynn, daintily pushing Jack away from her. "And two, not part of your crew. I am your ransom. Have you already forgotten that?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Jack, making her jump in surprise. "You are _my_ ransom. And you are under _my _complete control to do whatever I want with. And at the moment, I want your hair out of that hideous bun." Grabbing the ribbon that held it in place, Jack yanked it off, causing her hair to tumble down in a black waterfall.

Lynn scowled and snatched at the ribbon, but missing it when Jack pulled away. "Jack, this is childish. We are talking about my _hair_. And even if I am _your _ransom, I'd hardly call that a reason for ordering me around."

"No, we are talking about control, not hair. I have control; you don't. I intend to teach you that lesson as quickly as possible." He waved the ribbon rudely in front of Lynn's face.

"What makes you think that I need to have a lesson on control?" spat Lynn, grabbing again for her ribbon unsuccessfully.

"Let me explain something about you," began Jack, stepping away from her and her wild hand movement toward her ribbon. "You like to have power over your own situations."

"I already was aware that you were an observant man, Jack," answered Lynn, crossing her arms in frustration. "Tell me something I don't know. Like why you are being so pigheaded about this matter." While this statement was said in relevant calm, inside Lynn was fuming, wanting nothing more than to punch this man's eyes out. But she wasn't going to do that.

"Life does not always let you have control over your own fate," he continued, his voice mocking that of a pious priest. "You, who has lived a life of comfort, probably are not aware of this fact."

She threw her hands up in the air, for a split second loosing her temper, then just as quickly regaining it again and stuffing it behind a disgusted stare and tight lips. "So that's why you kidnapped me: so I can learn that I can't actually control my own destiny. Jacob Price, you know I have considered you a fool in the past, but this cements it. Not only are you a fool, but brainless git."

For a long moment, the two people glowered at each other, much like they had as children; Jacob standing there smugly, head reared in arrogance, and Lynn facing him with crossed arms, a cocked head, and burning holes into his face with her scowl.

"I see that bun one more time, Lillian, and I'll just chop all of your hair off," muttered Jack, throwing her the ribbon. "And it's not Jacob anymore."

"It's Lynn," she answered softly, taking the ribbon and tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "Not Lillian."

He looked at her a moment before smiling. "Lynn. The name does suit you."

"That was a pitiful attempt at a compliment, Jack," she said, turning back to the stew to pour some for herself.

"I don't bother trying to compliment you, Lynn. It's generally a waste of breath," he countered quickly, if not a little rashly, waltzing past her.

Lynn looked down at her hands, worn and calloused from being out at sea so much. Hardly lady hands. Though she hid it on her face, that comment hurt badly, reminding her of her previous ponderings.

There didn't seem to be much about her to compliment on anyway.

But she didn't hide enough of her thoughts, and Jack looked back just in time to see a pained look flit across Lynn's face before it was wiped away by a stony mask. And for a brief moment, he felt a strong sense of guilt and shame.

* * *

Lynn sat on her bunk, clutching her legs securely. She couldn't get rid of Jack's harsh remark, which kept repeating over and over in her head. Obviously, many people didn't think that she was ugly…but most people she knew were women, who would never be, lets say, romantically interested in her. But men…what were they thinking? Especially compared to her sisters?

And there was one questioned that refused to leave her mind: was she _really _that ugly?

It took a long time for Lynn to finally drop off to sleep, something that rarely happened.

* * *

Jack spun a coin across the desk, staring vacantly at the map placed there.

So, he had been a bit of a monster during dinner. Playing through the events in his mind's eye, he cringed slightly. So, he had been a big monster.

Why had he been so persistent about Lynn's hair? It was hardly about control; that was just an excuse, one he was surprised she had believed. What was the real reason?

The only thing he could come up with was he was…scared. Jack had no idea how to handle this new Lynn; who was definitely not a Lillian. By hiding behind something as simple and infantile as hair, he could, for a moment, pretend he knew how to handle her. If there was one thing that bugged Jack more than anything, it was unfamiliar territory, though he could _always_ manage himself despite it. That was the sole reason he was still alive and kicking.

But this security had had a large price, and Lynn's expression appeared in his mind again. No, she had grown up, and no longer held a child's juvenile thoughts. He was dealing with a grown women's feelings, ones he knew ran deeper than he could possibly imagine. Feelings he was not entirely willing to mess with.

Sighing, he stretched and laid down in his bed. There was only two more days until they reached Antigua, and he could be rid of Lynn, and whatever problems she might hold.

As he closed his eyes, Jack let the actions of dinner go through his mind one last time, stopping suddenly as he saw Lynn's hair falling gracefully from her bun, a sheet of black. Even if she were to put it up in that hideous contraption again, Jack doubted he could ever bring himself to cut it all off…

* * *

Lynn stood once again at the helm, leaning against the railing, her arms wrapped around her tightly as she hugged the coat she wore, for it was chilly with a strong breeze, but it wasn't the only reason. She had been able to get only a few hours of sleep, and already Lynn was feeling the effects. Clutching the coat tighter, she shivered slightly, looking down at her bare legs; this morning she had been too lazy to put her dress on, leaving only her chemise and night dress. Lynn would do it later, before the crew awoke.

Her hair whipped around her face rebelliously, like a shadow of a large flag. While she doubted Jack would actually cut all her hair off, Lynn did not want to risk it, and therefore now let it go free, flowing flawlessly with the wind.

It was ridiculous, to be so concerned with her looks. People had hardly ever mentioned it before, and, after a good thirty or so minutes of determined convincing, Lynn decided she wasn't ugly at all, just lacking what her sisters had an abundance of. There were plenty of women in this predicament.

Though, she doubted they had to deal with an unrelentingly patronizing pirate captain who couldn't seem to find the decency to keep his trap shut.

And there he was, walking up the stairs toward her. Biting her lip, Lynn looked away toward the rising sun and pulling the coat tighter around her.

She could feel him come up behind her, standing there silently. There was no point in looking back at him, so she stood there rigidly, refusing to recognize his presence.

Then, so softly Lynn wasn't sure if it was actually happening, she felt a hand on her hair, touching it carefully. She held still for a brief moment, taking a split second to savor the feeling, before coming back to reality and spinning around. "What are you doing?"

Jack looked back innocently, a guilty grin playing on his face. "You look your age when your hair is down."

Lynn rolled her eyes before turning away, Jack coming up to lean next to her, reaching out again to stroke her hair. She debated whether to bother swatting his hand away or not, finally deciding the attempt would be utterly fruitless. So she stood there, shamefully enjoying the feeling.

"Your hair is beautiful," he muttered. "I can't believe you've dared hide it in a bun all these years."

"There you go, wasting your breath again," said Lynn sharply, moving away. Jack followed, taking a fistful of her locks and rubbing them between his fingers. "Stop it."

"There _you_ go, ruining a perfectly good, intimate moment. Your abilities are outstanding." He didn't stop, and Lynn brought her hand up to remove his own, but he caught before she could do anything. "Your hair _is_ beautiful, Lynn."

"And why would I believe you?"

"Why would I bother lying about your hair?" Lynn looked up at him, mouth open for a retort, but she could find none. Jack was looking at her intently, his dark eyes studying her expression with interest. She looked away shyly, something she hardly ever felt.

They stood there quietly, letting the sun rise elegantly, its rays washing over them, bring warmth, and as always, reality. Jack, after running his fingers through her hair one more time, stopped and stood up straight. "You should probably start breakfast now, before the men become hungry."

"Oh, yes," gasped Lynn, annoyed at herself for forgetting. "I should have gone earlier."

She started toward the steps, but Jack grabbed her shoulder, making her face him. "One more thing, Lillian. You might want to get dressed properly." He looked openly and suggestively over her nightdress, still hidden under the coat.

Lynn could feel herself flushing deeply, utterly embarrassed at failing to remember what she was in. "You're…despicable," she spat. "Why didn't you remind me that I was dressed in practically nothing? Any decent man would have."

Jack grinned wickedly. "Because I never miss a chance at seeing any women dressed in next to nothing, even if it is just a stubborn, bullheaded maid."

At this point, Lynn wanted nothing more than to slap him silly at the licentious remark, but instead clung to her coat defensively, walking away amidst his irreverent chuckles. This man could seem to come up with nothing but appalling comments.

It was a quick meal Lynn threw together. After first dressing into her dress, she chased the ship chickens away from their coop, collecting the eggs before the rooster attacked her.

As the night before, the men, now much more energized and rambunctious, were grateful for the good food. Mr. Gibbs gave her a friendly smile, complimenting her profusely on her abilities. Lynn wondered whether this outpouring of gratitude had to do with her conversation with Jack the night before, one the crew no doubt had heard in full volume. And despite their rough appearance, she couldn't help but feel a certain fondness toward them at the thought.

Last to arrive was Jack. He came toward her and winked knowingly, causing Lynn to blush again, along with a tempting thought to throw raw eggs in his face.

"By the way, Lynn," he said, stopping mid stride, "I came up with a punishment for last night." He said it loud enough that the crew all turned to watch.

Lynn stopped flipping an egg to look at him. "Punishment for what? I swear, if this has to do with my hair--"

"You knew you weren't suppose to have put it in a bun. And, as captain, it is my _duty_ to punish you," Jack came up, his grin conniving as he added in a whisper, "no matter how gorgeous your hair is."

Lynn locked eyes with him, intent on glaring daggers so sharp as to cut his eyes out. "I doubt I would be of any use for any chore other than what I am doing," she finally said. "And I am certainly not part of your crew. _You _kidnapped me, remember?"

"And I am now taking you peacefully to your desired destination, therefore nullifying any ransom intended. You didn't actually think I'd let you sail for free?" Jack smirked evilly. "After all, you mentioned that my cabin needed a maid."

Lynn's eyes grew wide in protest, but Jack stopped any retort by placing his finger on her lips. "You can start this morning; cooking duties are suspended."

"I cannot believe--"

"Start believing, luv." He smiled again, this time wider, and pinched her cheek.

Jack strutted away, leaving Lynn standing there with a stoney face. Closing her eyes, she flipped another egg, splattering yoke across the area from the force.

Only a day or so more and she could leave.


	8. Memories

AN: Hello everybody! First off I want to thank everyone who has given reviews...I always appreciate more!

This chapter actually turned out a little different (and longer) than I was expecting, but I rather like the result. Whatever the case, I certainly hope you like it!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Lynn, as Jack had ordered, was in his room, tidying his cabin.

The reality of the matter was that it didn't need a maid. Everything was...decently kept (as decently as pirates can keep things), not too much dust, almost no mud (after all, it _was _the middle of the ocean). The only problem, major problem, was mold. And that was sparse.

So, by midmorning, Lynn had completely cleaned his room, meaning that in every sense, she could leave. However, partly because she wasn't too keen to go outside with the rest of the crew, but mostly because Lynn would rather not talk to Jack, she opted to remain and organize everything.

While actual 'dirt' was not a problem, clutter was a big issue of this room; rum bottles littered most of the floor, making her cringe in disgust (where had he picked up his terrible drinking habit?), along with lost maps, gold trinkets, necklaces, coins, blankets, and a few books. She even found a lady's pair of knickers, but after staring at it in shock, than repulsion, she quickly tossed it out the window, wiping her hands repeatedly on her skirt.

It wasn't long until she found his rum stash, located directly under his bed. Out of pure cruelty, Lynn decided to move it to the other side of the room, which happened to have a perfect nook to hold the large box. Most of the maps went in the desk, which was securely nailed to the floor. Books went on the bookshelf, and whatever clothing was laying around, she tossed into an open trunk next to the bed.

Next came the daunting task of cleaning what she would label junk: trinkets, jewelry, notes, etc, all of which she brought to a large pile on the bed. After bringing the four extra trunks by the desk, she opened them and began to sort.

Three of the four contained large amounts of money. Into these Lynn tossed the coins, trinkets, jewelry, and essentially anything shiny. This made up about three fourths of the pile.

The next fourth was mostly papers, along with a few unique things, like a shrunken head, a golden cross, a heavily beaded vest, a turban, and a small set of china, one which Lynn highly doubted Jack had ever used. Opening the fourth trunk revealed more of the same type of stuff, but looking like it had just been thrown together. Sighing, she started emptying it, deciding that, while he would never see it, she might as well have the trunk look nice.

Most of the items held little interest for her, or flat out revolted her. However, there was one thing, buried far under at the bottom, that Lynn was entranced by.

It was a box, about six inches high and twelve long, made from dark mahogany wood and intricately carved.

And Lynn recognized it.

That same box had sat in the library next to her favorite chair, until around her eighth year when it mysteriously disappeared. Nobody but her had ever noticed, for the Prices had an abundance of beautiful things; but she used to study that box, when she wasn't reading, imagining where it might have been made, or who had owned it before.

Once again, Lynn stared, holding the old childhood memory gently, not making a move. There was nothing particularly sentimental about the box for her, yet to see it again was strange, and an interesting thought came to her head. Why did Jack want to take it?

After finding that it wasn't locked, Lynn slowly opened it, feeling a little guilty at snooping around, but reasoning that Jack had foolishly let her loose to his quarters. So, she opened it.

There were six things in there: a lock of hair, a small spyglass, a tiny bottle of scent, a pair of riding gloves, a wide strip of dark blue ribbon, and a decorative hair comb.

To most, these things would hold no value, except for Jack.

But Lynn recognized these too. In fact, she could identify what each one represented.

First, she picked up the comb, touching the small rubies that were crested on. This had been her mother's comb, one she wore almost everyday despite the value it held. She had always reasoned that if you have something you love and cherish, you ought to keep it with you at all times instead of locking it away. Lynn could still remember the tears that had come when her mother could not find the comb.

Second was the gloves, worn with small holes. These had been Mr. Price's gloves, now deceased for four years. The man had loved to ride, and never went anywhere, including important social events, without having these gloves easily ready. Often Lynn had seen him wear them even when he did not ride.

Third was the ribbon, Annabelle's first ribbon. While Lynn had not been alive at the time to see it, Mrs. Price had given it to her on her seventh birthday, and Annie had worn it everywhere she went until she was about twelve, about the time she began receiving more, much fancier gifts. But Lynn remembered seeing it on Annabelle's dresser, in a place of honor, and occasionally in her hair, contrasting beautifully with her blonde hair.

Fourth was the scent, which was still full. This too had a vivid memory to accompany it, for it was this same bottle that Mrs. Price had gone into a vicious rage when she could not find it. After uncorking the bottle, Lynn recognized the smell to be the same that Mrs. Price still wore, the only one that she could ever remember smelling.

Fifth was the lock of hair, tied with a small string. It was Delilah's hair, still so golden and perfect, a hue that neither Annabelle or her mother had ever had. It was a long lock, and Lynn suddenly recalled the same morning that Jacob had gone, when Delilah had been horrified to find some of her hair missing. And now here it was.

Last was the spyglass, and Lynn could not help but let a few tears fall as she touched it gingerly. This had been her father's spyglass, specially made for him by his elder brother, who had past away the next year, after giving it to Mr. Ramsey. Her father had cherished this glass with every fiber of his being, and promising Lynn that this was to be hers, to remember him by. To respect him by.

She clutched it tightly, putting it to her face, trying to remember his smell and his touch. So long had she pretended to have taken his death with strength, staying sensible and reasonable while her sisters and mother cried their hearts out. But alone, in her room, Lynn had balled, soaking her pillow night after night, wishing more than anything that her father could return. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one who had understood her the best. He had never seen her as the ugly ducking, or as a queer, quiet child. Mr. Ramsey had seen her as Lynn, his daughter who, if she wanted to, could conquer the world.

But there was nothing else in the box. Just six. Lynn stared at the red velvet that lined the inside, almost willing something to appear. Everyone of importance was accounted for. Except her.

"I see you moved my rum."

Lynn jumped, nearly dropping the spyglass at Jack's sudden appearance. He was standing in the door, letting his eyes wander the room aimlessly, a somewhat bored expression on his face. "I'm almost done," she muttered, replacing everything back in the box.

Lynn had hoped to be inconspicuous in the action, still a little guilty at rummaging through his belongings, but Jack noticed, and walked over in three strides. "What are you doing?"

"Organizing."

Jack snorted and grabbed at the box, but not before Lynn snatched away the spyglass. He narrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but just sat down next to her. "Was this not locked?"

"No."

"So you felt it your duty to search it?"

Lynn remained silent, still holding the spyglass tightly, not meeting his eyes.

Jack sighed, and looked down at the contents of the box, touching each in turn. "I haven't seen these for a long time."

"What are they?" asked Lynn quietly.

"Memoirs, luv. I suspect you recognized them, especially _that_ one," he pointed at the spyglass. "You can have it. If I remember rightly, Mr. Ramsey was going to give it to you."

Lynn placed it inside her pocket. "How did you know?"

"I heard him talking."

"Oh." They sat there, not looking at each other. Then, without even thinking about it, Lynn burst out, "There were only six things in there."

Next to her, Jack tensed up, knowing exactly why she had asked that question. "Yes, only six," he finally muttered.

Lynn bit her bottom lip, an old trick she had learned to keep her from crying. "Why?"

Jack closed the box before putting it back in the trunk, then leaving the bed, went to study the bookshelf. "You put them in alphabetical order. By the authors. Just like the library at home. I'm never going to be able to find anything."

Lynn opened her mouth to say something, a small squeak coming before she stopped herself, biting her lip again to stop the tears that were threatening to come, tears that she shouldn't even be shedding. She couldn't lose composure right now, not in front of Jack.

He heard the squeak anyway, and turned to look at her, though Lynn's face was hidden by a sheet of black hair, guarding both sides of her face. "What is it?"

Lynn took a deep breath. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Jack could have been a statue he was so still, but at length, he spoke. "They're just things to help me remember them by. I remembered you just fine, without the help."

"You don't need things to remember people by," Lynn said, but added to herself, _Unless you care about them_.

Jack cleared his throat, no doubt readying to defend his position, but she interrupted. "I don't care, Jack. It doesn't matter. I'm glad to see you had the courtesy to not steal any of my belongings, particularly my books. I don't know what I could have _possibly_ done without them."

It had taken great restraint on Lynn's part not to say the last remark with dubious amounts of sarcasm. But she managed, and Jack's expression took on a relieved look at having avoid her temper.

"Well…" muttered Jack. "I suppose you want to keep cleaning."

"No, I'm done. From the expression on your face, I am suspecting you would rather I don't go through your private belongings. I'm sorry." She stood up and went to the door, but Jack took her shoulder and spun her around. The sudden action startled her, and Lynn blinked and looked up. The fact that he was taller than her was still strange--now she realized she liked looking directly at anyone she was dealing with; it gave her more power. But nevertheless, Lynn sighed and removed his hand. "I can start dinner now, if you would let me go."

"I could never forget you, Lillian. You are nothing like the rest of them." His face, while contorted with shame and remorse, suggesting that he was truly sorry, still seemed fake, as if he was only saying such a statement to keep her satisfied, which was certainly true of the boy Lynn had once known.

Yet the fact that still, after all these years, Jacob didn't care about her as an individual, stung. "I know. I never have been, nor can I _ever_." Despite her best efforts, tears began to well up in her eyes, burning them. Lynn turned rapidly away and rushed out the door, head held high, determined to not let him see her at such an embarrassing moment.

Slamming her cabin door shut and locking it, she collapsed onto the hammock, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs; clutched her waist to restrain the shaking. Lynn hated to cry, for it seemed to her to make her appear weak, or incapable. It wasn't that she was prideful about letting others see her in that state, but that she could not stand to have _herself_ cry. Adults didn't cry. Never had her father cried, and her mother rarely. No, adults knew how to control themselves, and to cry, for Lynn, made her feel like a immature, defenseless child. And Lynn had never really been a child.

Yet, it hurt, more than anything she had felt before. Maybe it was her recent thoughts about her own insecurity, but to see that Jack had not bothered to find a memoir for _her_ was more painful than any injury Lynn could receive.

It was if she was unwanted. Rejected. No one but her own family had ever paid much attention to her, and to have Jack, who had lived with her for eight years, decide to ignore her existence was horrible. Had he really thought so little of her? She was just eight, but _still_…

Lynn sat up abruptly, almost clawing at her face as she wiped away the wetness. This was ridiculous. She had known that Jack had hardly cared for her; it was a fact that he had made abundantly clear multiple times before. All that she had ever been to him was the outspoken, to the point of anger, stubborn, mousy little eight year old girl. Why should have Jack bothered to find anything to remember _her_ by? She was the pebble in his shoe, the annoyance you are aware of, but don't want to deal with.

The doorknob rattled, followed by a long pause. "Lillian, let me in."

Lynn scowled at the door, with Jack on the other side. What was he doing here? "I told you never to call me that name. And no, I don't want you to come in."

"That wasn't a request. Unlock the door."

"Go away," she ordered, turning toward the opposite wall.

"I'll shoot the lock off."

Lynn paused, wondering if he would really go through with the threat, then stood up and cracked the door open to see Jack standing there, glaring down at her. "What is it?"

"Are you going to actually make dinner, or sit in your room and pout?"

Lynn pursed her lips and glowered back, moving to shut the door again, but Jack stopped her, stepping inside neatly. At his manuver, she sniffed in annoyance, her glare becoming even more pronounced. "I'll make dinner. Soon. But I don't need you to pester me about it. You of all people ought to know I enjoy having time to myself."

He glanced outside her room before closing the door quietly. "I don't care about dinner; that was just to get your attention. What we're _really _going to do is straighten everything out between us."

"Nothing needs to be straightened out, Jack. I was snooping through your stuff and got what I deserved. Leave me alone."

He sighed dramatically before grasping both of Lynn's shoulders. "This is the _exact_ reason we are going to be talking."

"About what? What reason?We have _nothing_ to talk about, Jack. Now, let me go start the dinner, or you and your crew will have nothing to eat," she answered, wishing now more than ever that she was as tall as him. "I didn't grow up with a house of men, but I know they aren't pleasent to be around when their hungry."

"Kitchen duties suspended, remember? Cotton is doing it today, meaning," he forced her down to sit on the hammock, "I have all the time in the world to straighten you out."

Lynn could feel her temper rising to the surface, and, after taking two discreet breaths, felt her face contort into the age old mask that held her anger and despair. Jack would never know. "I don't need to be straightened out."

"Lynn." His eyes flashed treacherously, showing his annoyance at being so blatantly refused. As captain, Jack generally had his way; and she was defying that.

She glanced sideways at him, but ignored the obvious warning signs, partly from her defiant stubbornness, but mostly from ignorance of his usual behavior. "I'm glad to see you remembered my name. Despite that, we have nothing to discuss."

"I was eighteen when I went away," he continued. "I would hope to see that over the past twelve years, you have developed a sense of maturity, and not take this personally. Even _I _will admit that eighteen is a fairly immature age--"

"Exactly: twelve years. I was eight, the youngest, and you had hardly anything to do with me. It would be like taking a memoir for a baby. It's perfectly understandable. I'm glad we agree on _something_. Now please leave."

Jack narrowed his eyes and stood up, towering over Lynn like a lodgepole pine; almost looking angry, but guilty all the same. "You haven't changed. Here you are, still looking at everything in life so…practically. It's as if you never grew up."

"On on the contrary, I believes it shows that I have always maintained this maturity you speak of. Unlike the hypocrite that inferred otherwise." Lynn's eyes were flickering vehemently, letting slip the only emotion she dare show other than relative calmness: annoyance. A very deadly annoyance that was commonly mistaken for anger. With a huff, she stood up, making ready to leave and make dinner, like she intended, but Jack was still standing there like a brick wall, and she bumped into him before steadying herself.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were suggesting something, _Miss Ramsey_," Jack growled, inching up dangerously.

Lynn stood her ground and cocked her head...and looked up. "Only what I've been thinking for twelve years."

"Which is what?"

"That you were a coward for leaving. To suddenly disappear from your family like that was something a coward would do."

"You didn't know what I was facing," he seethed, coming down to her face so that, finally, his brown eyes were firmly locked onto her hazel ones. Jack's anger was rising; unlike Lynn's, his temper was slow (however, it seemed to quicken when with Lynn), but vicious when unleashed. This was proven as he glared menacingly at her, a glare that had sent more than one man running for his life.

"I know exactly," she answered, matching his fierce gaze. "Mr. Price wanted you to take over his management. And your mother had someone lined up for you to marry, one way or another. But you didn't want to. So you ran."

Jack breathed in sharply, shocked that Lynn knew so much, yet not shocked at all. Of course she knew. This was Lynn. Lynn had _always _known everything. "And your solution is to accuse me of cowardice. Pray, tell me, o wise one, _your_ great and infinite answer?"

Lynn sucked in her cheeks, reminding herself why it would be a bad idea to slap him. _One: he was older and stronger. Two: she was not a physical fighter_. _Three:....she didn't need a third reason, it was just a stupid idea. And anyways, she never resorted to violence in an arguement._ "I would have told my father. Explained the situation. Granted, the fact that the alternative was certainly something less than desirable out of an eighteen year old boy--"

"I wasn't planning to be a pirate," interjected Jack. "It happened."

"What _was_ your plan? To play Robin Hood on the open seas? To be a merchant that _happened_ to steal from other merchants? Yes, the difference is crystal clear to me," was Lynn's sarcastic retort.

"Privateer; a pitiful, esteem lowering enslavement that I narrowly escaped," snarled Jack, who had lost all sense of composure; he had snatched Lynn's arm and was gripping it rather hard. Looking up in shock, she swallowed, remembering the familiar position.

This particular situation was not strange to either party.

Jack was breathing hard, eyes alight with a fire that only Lynn had ever managed to spark. That little insulting, derisive, sardonic, mocking mouth of hers! Except, it was now ten times worse! He was dealing with an adult now, not a child with children's insults! Glaring at her contemptuously, Jack looked Lynn over scathingly, taking in the defensive hazel eyes and the aggravated frown that graced her lips. She may have been an adult now, but there seemed to be enough of the familiar Lynn when she was irritated. The only real emotion Jack had ever encountered numerous times.

Lynn was as calm as a statue on the outside, but fuming with fury on the inside. Clenching her fist into her skirt folds, she met Jack's eyes, debating whether to answer or not. Many times, when younger, she had made this mistake, and the consequences had been…humiliating. But would Jack dare do that now?

"And being a pirate is so much better. Being chased by the navy, hunters, and hated by people in general. Instead of 'narrowly escaping' once, you get to do it every day of your life. Your reasoning is _outstanding_. I cannot even _begin_ to comprehend."

Jack's grip had tightened to a colossal strength; a strength that brought Lynn back to childhood memories. Being shoved into the mud, locked in a closet, stripped of her shoes and ribbons, hair being tied into knots. He had been nothing but a horrid bully, and suddenly, she hardly cared what would happen next between them. It would be just like twelve years ago.

"Well, I'd imagine my narrow escapes are tremendously more interesting than any library," spat Jack.

"If that is the best you can come up with, you've lost your touch," answered Lynn sourly.

That was the last straw for Jack. To see her acting this way again seemed to have activated something in the back of his mind, and all of his control and general will-power became that of an eighteen year old boy.

"I suppose I shall have to get it back again. After all, it can hardly be considered competition when I'm facing a black-haired banshee."

Lynn glared studiously, but hardly moved. "That makes two, I suppose. At least my locks don't house mysterious creatures along with the grime. Your head ought to be brought in for scientific study; I'd imagine at least five new species would be discovered."

Jack smiled, a terrible, vicious grin that hardly came to his face anymore. But the familiar banter, however harsh, had sent his mind spinning from control. While he could hardly recall how he had looked on this aspect of their relationship with any fondness, it was familiar. And familiar was what he was craving. "I'll have to bring you in as well. Those researchers would be fascinated to learn how a sickly girl ever managed to grow the height of a beanstalk."

Lynn blushed furiously, aggravated that he poke fun at her height. She was tall, a fact that had driven many men away from her; very few enjoyed looking eye to eye with a women. "Vagrant hound," she hissed.

Jack couldn't help but laugh inside. So began round two; calling of horrid names. Depending on Lynn's mood, and tolerance, this could last for an hour, or more. However, he had generally driven her away in tears by ten minutes, and he was dangerously curious to see how long the grown up lady could stand the harassment. "Hussy blighter."

"Moronic devil."

"Sniveling cad."

Lynn's clenched her jaw tightly. This was ridiculous. They were acting like children. Again. But she couldn't seem to, for once in her life, as had always been, find the self-control to stop with him. The only person she every lost composure with. "Rank half-faced scut."

Jack narrowed his eyes to the point where they were almost slits. So it was to be Shakespeare, was it? He didn't even both forming words in his mouth; this battle was already lost, for Lynn had read more Shakespeare by the time she was eight than he ever had, though it was debatable whether she understood any of it, except for the insults. Instead he took her ear and twisted it downward, and as expected, she followed with a painful yelp.

"Jacob Price!" she hissed, grappling for hold of his arm. "Let go of me-this-_instant_!" The last three words had escalated in volume as Jack had pulled harder and harder on her ear, to the point where the last one was extremely high pitched.

He gave another tough tug before letting go. "_Captain_ Sparrow, if you please, _Lillian_."

Lynn clenched her teeth, stony faced, but vicious. This was _not_ the end.

"The physical harassment was started sooner than I anticipated from a full grown man," she spat, sticking her nose in the air. "But I suppose I could expect no more from…_you_."

Jack ground his jaw repeatedly. Such a simple word, and yet he was dying to know what Lynn meant by it, exactly. "What are you inferring, Lillian?"

She blinked and shrugged. "Be imaginative, Jacob. I'm sure that after twelve years of brainless scavenging and prancing around like a buffoon would give you plenty of experience to pull from. However," Lynn pulled daintily at her sleeve, which was bunching uncomfortably on her arm, "I would think it would be in the best interest, for both of us, if you gained some sense and began acting like a real adult instead of the fifteen year old miscreant that I have had to witness these two days."

Thousands of ideas popped into Jack's head of what to do. Throwing her off the ship or locking her in the brig seemed to be the prime choice at the moment, but then a stroke of good luck came to him as another memory came to his head. This was something she certainly had not forgotten about. "Fifteen year old miscreants can be much worse when six inches taller and no parents to stop me," he snarled.

He grabbed her pony-tail and began dragging her toward the deck. The men would still be eating at the moment, so she couldn't possibly complain about people watching.

Lynn held onto her head as he dragged her, though she was hardly feeling the pain; instead, she was rushing through his last comment. What was he planning to do to her? What could he possibly…?

The wind was hard and stinging to the skin as the two emerged on the deck, Lynn still struggling significantly, though she absolutely refused to scream. A storm was blowing in, proven by the large thunderheads to the east, and the sun cast an eerie orange glow on everything it touched, including Jack's face, who had taken on the expression of a destroying angel.

All reasoning had been lost to him. The only remaining thought in his head was to make Lynn suffer; suffer for what, he wasn't quite sure. Changing? Growing? Being…adult? Being so damn unreasonable? All of it seemed to encompass the Lynn Ramsey he knew now, the one he was honestly uncomfortable about, for reasons he couldn't quite pin down. The Lynn he didn't want to try and understand, because he was afraid of…a weird flipping sensation happened in his stomach, and he pulled harder on Lynn's hair. She caused him to feel…strange. Insecure. Like he was missing something in his life, and she was the answer to finding it. And he did not like this strange feeling, especially since it came from someone who he did not understand; someone who, in his head, ought to still be eight years old. So, as crude as the method was, he was going to make Lynn flaming, incurably livid. It would stop everything. _Everything_. Whatever everything might include.

Grabbing a rope, he tied Lynn's arms to her sides. He was certainly stronger than her more than twelve years ago, and it had not changed now.

"What are you doing?" she asked, aghast. "What are you…? No. _No_!"

She wriggled, but to no avail.

Lynn knew exactly what was happening. Even though it was fifteen years before, the memory was still branded in her mind.

Granted, at the time, she had been ruthless in her actions as well; but honestly, what else could a five year old do? Jacob had made a horrible comment on her freckled face, right after the neighborhood boys had said it was fly poop splattered on her complexion for being naughty. And he once again insulted her height, right after the same boys had called her a giant. And everyone knew that giants had huge warts and red blotches all over their faces as well.

In a five-year-old's mind, sneaking into Jacob's room and breaking his model ship and stripping every feather from his hats and dropping his practice blade from the roof so it bent were all justified actions. Sure, she had been known as the little adult of the house. But adults gave punishments too. And this had been a punishment to Jacob.

Jacob had not viewed it that way. Upon seeing the destruction, he had hunted down Lynn, her gangly body running with all her might from him, but not quite able to escape. He had taken her to the lake to the south of the property and forced her to climb a huge tree with him, dragging her by the hair. He had rope with him, and had tied her up securely so that she could not so much as move an inch in any direction. He had bound her mouth…and then he had flung her over the tree, dangling over the lake, kept alive by a single rope.

And then he had lowered her, till her entire body was submerged. He had held her there till she thought her lungs would burst. And then he would lift her, and she could hardly breathe. Water dripped from the rag on her mouth into her nose. And then he did it again. And again. And again.

Lynn had never minded the water much. Till then.

From that point on, Lynn's greatest fear was drowning.

And it hadn't changed.

But despite her fear, despite the fact that Jacob's cruel face was attempting to push her over the railing, she didn't scream. Lynn had never been a screamer, and though she was scared beyond anything imaginable, she still remained reasonably composed. As reasonably as anyone could remain in such a situation.

"Jacob, stop! _Please stop_!"

She didn't care if it sounded like she was begging. She was willing to do anything. Just if the torture would stop.

Jacob leaned over the railing to judge the distance between Lynn and the ocean, grinning maliciously.

Lynn was shaking uncontrollably, her mind spinning in circles, her thoughts lost. Her mouth was dry, her limbs numb, and her vision was going black. A scream was forming on her lips, but she pushed it back. A scream would attract attention. The last thing she wanted.

Then…she was going lower, and lower, and lower, her long hair was grazing the soft waves, but to Lynn, they looked like hands trying to pull her under. A small whimper escaped, and she gritted her teeth, waiting for the impact, waiting for her to be swallowed whole.

But it never came.

Instead the opposite happened. She went up.

Lynn could hardly breathe, both from the constricting rope, and from shock. Jacob hadn't finished. He was pulling her _up_.

She flopped onto the deck, her hair strewn behind her like a blanket, her dress draped here and there so that she was such a tangled mess it was impossible to determine where her head was. She trembled hard, with a such force she couldn't seem to stop, although she attempted as such. The adrenaline and fear was still coursing through Lynn's body, and any movement was staggered and shaky. The rope was tighter than ever, holding out the air that so desperately needed to be had.

Lynn could see Jacob's boots, standing there silently. Then suddenly a face appeared. It was Jack.

"Lynn? Are you…?"

With an angered growl, she tried to twist away, but she was too shocked, and too weak, and too strangled up in her own hair and dress that she hardly got anywhere. Jack grabbed her by the arms and stood her up. Once Lynn got a good view of his face, she glared, but she couldn't tell if she was talking to Jack or Jacob. "_You monster_."

The face was a mixture of regret, embarrassment, arrogance, and defiance. This was Jack, the captain of the _Black Pearl_. The one dragging her by the hair had been Jacob.

Lynn hated them both.

"How _dare_ you treat me like that," she hissed, hardly above a whisper. This was her angry; venomous.

Jack opened and closed his mouth like a fish before finally cutting her free, after which she promptly stumbled away. He followed after, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. "Stop, and wait. I…we need…" He sighed and tried to drag her back toward him, but Lynn was having none of it.

"Let go of me this instant! I do _not_ want to talk to you!"

"I didn't even finish submerging you! Doesn't that count for _something_?" Jack tried to get a firmer grip on Lynn's wrist, but she wiggled free, only to trip over herself. Grabbing her skirts, he dragged her back to where they had originally been standing, her still making fruitless attempts at escape.

"NO! Let go _now_, Jacob."

Lynn glared openly at him, watching his brown eyes study her hastily. It wasn't worth hiding her emotions now, not when her fear had so openly revealed itself.

"Why didn't you scream?" he finally asked.

"I hardly think that matters! You…_you_…" she curled her lips into a snarl, but could say nothing more than, "…adjectives fail me. There is no longer a word in the English language apt enough to describe _you_."

Jack only seemed slightly amused at the comment. His own bad temper had dissipated quickly after hauling Lynn over the railing, hence the reason for dragging her back up. While in the heat of the moment it had seemed sensible to do, Jack had suddenly realized how foolish he was acting. Torturing her was going to serve absolutely no purpose. Other than to make her mad. In which he had succeeded.

His lack of reaction cause Lynn to let a growl of frustration out, and after giving one more acid glare, she began to stalk off, only to once again be stopped. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you scream?"

Lynn tried to shove past him, but it was trying to shove through a mountain. Realizing that to get away, she needed to appease him, she cocked her head up (an action she still couldn't get used to), and hissed, "What good would it have done?"

She hadn't intended to look any longer than a few moments, but after she finished, Lynn couldn't seem to look away. And from her eyes, she could feel all her secrets leaving, all her desires and hates and wants and fears. They were leaving her, set out for Jack to see and interpret for himself. She wanted to stop, but Jack's stare of confusion and wonder kept her gaze from deterring anywhere other than his own face.

Finally he spoke, and the accuracy of his comment made Lynn's blood run cold.

"You don't scream because you don't want people to notice you. You don't want to be seen as foolish. Because that's all you think you have: your dignity."

Jack's eyes were no longer confused, maybe shocked, but not confused. It was as if he was seeing her, Lynn Ramsey, not Lillian, for the first time.

She walked away, practically running, for her small dank cabin. Jacob, Jack, whoever in the world he was: Lynn was done with him. She wanted nothing more. He…scared her. To know that he could understand more about her as an individual person than her own family was able; that was scary. Lynn knew that this one man, Jack Sparrow, was capable of knowing her better than anyone before this time, or possibly after. That was scary. And yet…she looked back before she escaped below deck at the man who had caused her so much pain and confusion in her life…to know that he could understand her, her hopes, her dreams, her fears, he agonies…for her to have at least _someone_ understand…

*****

Jack was trying to sleep to no avail.

He couldn't stop thinking. And it was only about one person.

Lynn had always been a puzzle from the moment she was born. Everything about her was different; the way she walked with a purpose instead of to impress. The way she looked at people so directly. The way she talked straightly and bluntly, yet still managing to make it eloquent and sophisticated. The fact she was a women, managing a man's business.

And especially the fact that, despite these attributes, she was afraid of being seen as foolish.

It seemed to be the opposite issue that most women had; they didn't care how they acted (proved by the many who behaved in such a way as to suggest they were airheads), as long as they didn't appear ugly, or unsophisticated. For Lynn, that was the only thing she cared about; the way she acted. The way she presented herself.

It attributed to many things in her personality; the way she could compose herself so quickly, and so suddenly. Why she _always_ appeared calm. Why her hair was always hidden in a bun. Why she was always so aloof…

Jack frowned. Twelve years ago, Lynn had been many things, but certainly not aloof. Everything about that eight-year-old child had been direct and observant. Not aloof. Closing his eyes, he sighed, trying to remember her once again. At Ethereal Heights, she had been personal and demanding. With her family, she was…

His eyes snapped open, and a large smirk formed on his face. Her family. Of course. She only seemed aloof now because she was not with her family. She didn't like to attach herself to people she wasn't familiar with, something that Jack had observed countless times with the numerous social gatherings at his house. This was why she was, to some degree, ignoring him; for indeed, he was feeling ignored. Lynn was not familiar with Jack Sparrow, only Jacob Price. This also accounted for why he was so frustrated. He knew Lillian, not Lynn. Lynn was…

He sighed and rolled over, readjusting the blankets and pillow. There were so many things he _seemed_ to know about Lynn, but yet were completely wrong. A puzzle. A puzzle he swore he had seen before, but the image had changed with time, tweaked in such subtle ways that initially, there appeared no difference. But the pieces wouldn't fit the way they used to. And they could never fit that way again.

She wasn't eight anymore. And over the past twelve years, things had happened to Lynn. Things that had changed her. Altered her. She probably didn't recognize the change, but it was there.

Puzzles. Jack wasn't very fond of puzzles. Unless it lead to some type of treasure. That was good. Except for just recently…he gagged at the thought of that cursed gold. If only he hadn't chased after the first treasure to reach his ears after escaping his boring life. Ten years wasted…but it was behind him now. And two years of bliss.

Well, bliss may have not been the most appropriate word. Granted, he had been plundering and stealing and being a black hearted criminal, as pirates are expected to do, but…maybe he had wanted something a little different to happen. Hence the reason he had jumped on the novel concept of kidnapping one of the Ramsey family members and hold them for ransom. Just to shake things up a bit.

Puzzles. Well, so he wasn't fond of them, but maybe one puzzle wouldn't hurt. Something different. And Lynn could prove to be a very interesting puzzle, especially with twelve years to uncover…


	9. The Arrival

AN: Hmm, I don't have much to say about anything in particular, so I won't make you wait long reading this (for those of you who even take the time...). This is kind of an intercessory chapter between Lynn's initial meeting with Jack and the rest of the story...so sorry if you think it's lacking in action or whatever (at least, when I was writing it, I found it slightly dull). Thanks again for, you know, reading my story and all that--remember, I still love reviews!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Lynn initially had come out on the deck early that morning, as had been her daily ritual, but within five minutes of her arriving (once again too lazy to get properly dressed), Jack had appeared, making sure to smile winningly in her direction. Scowling, she had stormed down the stairs to below deck, but not before giving Jack a scathing look upon passing; both for interrupting her one moment of peace and for staring suggestively at her apparel, a look he was taking no efforts to hide.

During breakfast, she calculated just how long she had been on the ship. Two days, or one and a half, to be exact. Well…it was about two days.

Two days and already she wanted to rip her hair out and scream. Well…maybe not rip _her_ hair out…possibly Jack's.

She flipped another egg, accidentally cracking the yoke. Eggs seemed to be the only food in abundance on this ship. Except for hard tack. But she couldn't very well cook with hard tack.

Two days and Jack had already reached the outer limits of her patience; a patience that was, with much practice, practically unfailing. Except with him. Jacob had always been the exception. And Jack was proving no different.

She creased her brow is frustration. Jack or Jacob. As of now, she could find no distinguishable difference between the two; yet, there surely was a difference. It would come, spring upon her like a lion, and she would know in an instant that this was Jack, and not Jacob, but that difference would blend in with the Jacob she remembered, and the two became the same. It was confusing. Horribly confusing.

The only direct difference she could, in an infinitesimal way, see was in the way Jack looked at her. Jack recognized the difference between Lynn and Lillian. The one who understood her…

She shivered. He didn't understand her. He couldn't possibly. Not even her own sisters, whom she had spent her entire life with, could detect the faintest hint of what her fears and wishes were. All she wanted was to be loved. A secret she guarded more closely than any before that, for she knew if her family knew, they would be hurt. They would feel guilty.

Lynn flipped another egg with more force. Loved. Not in a family sense. She wanted someone who loved her and made her feel beautiful. Love her for _her_. Never in her life had she experienced that feeling. Not even remotely. And it wasn't because she was exactly _ugly_; but Annabelle and Delilah were there, always there for others to compare her too. Against them, she _was _ugly--black hair, darker skin, too tall for her own good--next to the bright beautiful angels that embodied her sisters. And she had always been the youngest child, insignificant.

If there was one thing Lynn hated, it was to be insignificant. Along with a few other feelings: hopelessness, ignorance, helplessness. But…at the same time, she often wondered if who she really was had become lost in these fears. It wasn't that she was obsessed with beauty; no, she was too _practical_ for that. She had not wasted away years of her life moping around, waiting for a fairy godmother. But…

She certainly had not spent it the same way most young women spent their years. In the library, instead of balls. Standing on the cliff for hours, instead of walking around town. Studying maps and reading, instead of sewing and knitting, and whatever homemaking skills young women were suppose to learn. Mother had never tried to direct her otherwise, always allowing her to follow her interests.

Yet, it had not always been her interest to stay in the house, or at Ethereal Heights. More of a commitment. Something had kept her there; not quite the fear of being shunned, but something to do with protecting the family, at least, that was what she thought. Father was gone all the time, and Lynn couldn't help but feel the need for someone to replace him. There had been no sons, so she had filled in. And in the end, the need had been there. She was running the Ramsey Company, like a son should have. Well, maybe commitment was not all…scared? Lynn shoved the idea out of her mind right away. Of course she wasn't _scared_. She? Absurd. Naturally, she would feel uneasy or uncertain in the proper situations, but never scared.

No, her years had not been wasted. She had had a very fulfilling life so far, and looking back, there was very little she regretted. But now she wanted something different. Delilah was getting married, and she was getting older. The comment Jack had made of her staying an old maid rang in her ears. She didn't want to be an old maid; she wanted someone outside the family to love, really, truly love. She wasn't the stingy, uptight lady she had made herself out to be. That was her shield. The shield that protected her from the hurt she was afraid of. The first man with whom she could completely let her guard down with, the first one to see past her; that was the man for her. Someone who could see past the other beautiful sisters and see _her_. Lynn Ramsey.

The steps, or rather barrage, of men were coming down the stairs for their long awaited breakfast, and for a horrible fleeting moment, she realized that Jack was already that man. With him, she was, well, Lynn. She wasn't formal, maybe rather apprehensive, but not formal. That took too much effort with him. His very existence made it nigh impossible.

But _he _didn't count. Jack Sparrow was the morphed version of Jacob Price, a boy she had, to a great degree, loathed. No, _he _certainly was not the one. No. The thought was disgusting. As Lynn dwelled further on the concept, she cringed. Ick.

"Ugg…eggs again?" groaned a boy, who happened to be first in line, one she had been aware of, but never paid attention to.

Lynn looked down and frowned. "You should be grateful you get anything to eat, young man." She slapped two eggs on his plate. "How old are you? Surely too old to complain; to the cook of all people."

The boy, who, at closer inspection, probably was a young man, cocked a dainty eyebrow. His mud-brown hair was in a ponytail, and most of his face was dirty, though he looked strong. But, as with many, he was still a few inches below her own height. "Fourteen, miss. Name's Trevor."

"Trevor…?"

"No surname. Just Gibbs' nephew."

"Trevor Gibbs, then?"

"Well, we don't know for certain who the father was," explained Gibbs, who was next in line. "But my sister was saying he was causing some problems, so she sent him off with me."

Lynn blinked, her only sign of confusion. "She sent him to live with pirates.………….why _pirates_?"

"She lives in Tortuga," he said, as if that explained everything; of course it did nothing, since Lynn had hardly dealt with Tortuga at all. The only information she was aware of was that her ships ought not to go there.

Lynn rolled her eyes and gave Gibbs some eggs as well. "Trouble? So what does he do here?"

"Whatever Jack feels like making him do. He's just a little, scurvy cabin boy."

Trevor glared at this uncle indignantly and puckered up his mouth with a frown.

"Captain, Gibbs, _captain_," corrected Jack, who had strutted to the front of the line, plate in hand and hat askew to match the rest of his demeanor that morning. He was not a morning person, but any stretch of the imagination.

Lynn moved away, raising the spatula slightly. "And what do you want?"

He noted her movements with a small smile. "I don't bite, luv. All I want is my meal."

"It's _Lynn_, Captain. And you can get in the back of the line and wait like everyone else. I cannot believe it even crossed your head that I would let you be a special case."

"Have no fear, it did not," he smirked. "I simply knew I was a special case. I'm captain."

"That means absolutely nothing," snorted Lynn, shoving past him to serve Cotton, who was standing dejectedly behind Jack. "Get in line, you great oaf."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, a annoyed frown already forming on his face, but Trevor, who was still between the two, snorted in mirth before composing himself. At the sound, Jack narrowed his eyes at his cabin boy. "Sit down, Trevor, before I make you clean the bilges again, which you almost certainly deserve after that little joke you played the other day. As for you," he turned to Lynn, ice rimming his expression, "if I ever hear you speak to me that way again--"

"Don't even start," snarled Lynn softly, her voice deadly, but only loud enough for the two of them to hear. "After what you did to me yesterday? How can you possibly think you have _any_ authority to order me around?"

Jack's expression froze and his eyes flitted to both sides checking to make sure no one was aware of what was between them. Lynn served the remaining five men behind him as he stood there like an effigy, mouth slightly open. As she returned the last time, he finally spoke. "We don't have time to…hold this as a grudge between us. Nothing has time to last that long on the ocean, with our lives in danger everyday."

"Why don't you start living like everyday was your last, instead of acting like…an inconsiderate buffoon?" she hissed, looking about ready to rip his head off, but composing herself before adding, "Say you're sorry. What you did was beyond normal taboo of punishment."

"Sorry is such a weak excuse. I'm not going to waste my breath with it."

"Then we shall remain where we are at present, unless you can create a 'stronger' excuse to use your priceless breath on." Lynn sniffed and itched her nose, turning away, frustrated and irritated.

Had there not been a crew in the vicinity, Jack would have continued the argument, but as it were, there _was_ a crew; a crew that was listening intently though they were excellent in acting otherwise. Gripping his fork, the captain strutted over to the table and began to think what would need to be done today. Sails were in disarray, ropes needed to be mended, the bilges _were _rather dirty for that matter…

He glanced up, involuntarily, at Lynn and their eyes met. Fierce, distrustful hazel eyes.

They were almost to Antigua. Almost.

* * *

Antigua came faster than Lynn had expected. Whatever interactions she had done during breakfast, they had kept Jack a safe distance away so that they hardly walked within ten feet of each other, though she certainly wasn't complaining. Jack was the last person she wanted to speak with today...if ever for that matter. Lynn generally tried not to hate people, but this pirate was making it hard for her to keep that resolution.

However, a trade-off seemed to have occurred, and Trevor made it his business to follow her around like a lost puppy. Now, Lynn wasn't opposed to the attention, but she wasn't used to it…unless it was coming from Jack, and that was attention she certainly wanted to avoid.

He was a talkative person, with big round honey colored eyes that could light up at the smallest joke, and a wry smile that, had Lynn been twenty years older, would have made her want to pinch his cheek. For fourteen, Trevor wasn't exactly the biggest in stature, but his time at sea had made him much stronger than most his age, and it wasn't long till Lynn was significantly impressed, if not intimidated, by what he was capable of doing. All through the morning, she had been cleaning out the stores of food (_nothing_ was in order, and it was getting on Lynn's nerves), and Trevor had been the sole person lifting and hauling barrels and crates this way and that. Lynn, as was certainly expected of any lady at that time, could hardly move one barrel.

Originally, Lynn _had_ wanted to be alone to sort things out: her feelings in particular, but also about what would happen once she arrived at Antigua. She was _suppose _to have Ambrose with her, but now she highly doubted that he was going to Antigua after having lost her, and instead would do something more along the lines of a rescue mission.

But with Trevor there, Lynn was forced to hold conversation as he spilled out his life story, and then requested that she do the same. He had been raised in Tortuga until he was eleven, and then attempted to run off with a pirate crew to get to the colonies (hence the 'trouble' he had become). His mother, according to Trevor, was excessively protective to her only son (though apparently he did have three half-sisters, whom she was also protective over), and not wanting him to be away from family, sent him with Gibbs. Though he did love his mother, Trevor was clever enough to realize that she wasn't the brightest banana in the bunch, and found it rather amusing that to keep him from trouble, she had sent him with pirates. At fourteen, all he could see was what an adventure this could be, though he did admit that at his first chance, he was going to leave ship at the colonies and make a name for himself that didn't involve being on a wanted poster.

Lynn complied with telling her own story, though much to her chagrin, he was avidly interested and listened to her every word. She told of her father, the company, her sisters, Joshua, her mother, Mrs. Price, and finally about Jacob; however, she never mentioned who Jacob really was.

"He sounds like an awful person," conceded Trevor after Lynn finished telling him of all the times she had been bullied. "I used to get bullied too, you know."

Lynn looked warily at his bulging bicep as he lifted another crate, doubting that he would ever be bullied now. "What about?"

"Oh, a few things," he explained carelessly. "Who my mother was, how small I was, and my teeth. I used to have a gap when I was little. I never let it get to me, though."

"I guess you never liked Tortuga," added Lynn.

"No, I didn't. I'd always want to leave, but it wasn't because of the bullies. I didn't like the tavern. Everybody there was nasty. I mean, there were a lot of okay people too…but you know how it goes." Trevor huffed as he picked up a particularly heavy crate and put it over in the corner. "Okay, that's everything. Now what?"

Lynn stood up and studied the galley. "It looks great. Now I can actually cook in here."

"Well, you aren't really going to be doing anymore cooking," interjected Jack, who had entered without either Trevor or Lynn noticing. "Antigua is already visible, and we should be docking at my aunts home within two hours. You can do your cooking in the house."

At the sound of Jack's voice, Lynn had moved back significantly, not bothering to hide her fierce glare, closer to where Trevor was standing, but at the mention of his aunt, she became intrigued. "Your aunt?"

"My great aunt, actually. To my father," he explained, looking around the galley. "So after completely reorganizing my cabin, you felt the need to reorganize the galley as well. Cotton isn't going to be able to find anything."

"Great aunt?" repeated Lynn, ignoring Jack's other comment and instead recalling what Mrs. Price had sent her here for in the first place. "But…that's…I wouldn't exactly consider that safe…"

"Why?" Jack smirked suddenly and stopped to look at Lynn. "Because of Conway? He's already proven himself incompetent."

Lynn started at his answer, too confused to bother hiding it. "You know about Conway?"

"I'll be seeing you in two hours. I have a ship to dock," said Jack, strutting toward the door without bothering to finish illuminating his answer.

"I didn't know he had a great aunt," Trevor mused, grabbing an apple and taking a bite. "That must put her well into her seventies."

Lynn wasn't listening to her new friend, however. Jack knew about Conway? How? Why? She though back to his words…incompetent. That was how he described him. That was an odd phrase to use…unless…

It was so obvious now that she could see it with new eyes.

"You're the one defending the estate?" Lynn asked as she ran up to Jack at the helm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't really see how it concerns you," he sighed.

Lynn opened her mouth to respond, but shut it again, frowning and folding her arms. "Okay, so you are the…guardian angel to your elderly aunt. Why?"

Jack turned to her narrowing his brown eyes slightly with a shadow of a grin on his mouth, "We're on speaking terms again, I see. Okay, I have a question for you then: how do you know about Conway?"

She stifled a glower at his comment and said, "I spoke to your mother last time I went to England, and she specifically asked me to…take care of the issue. Well, Ambrose would technically be the one dealing with all the details, but she was hoping that a large, influential company would convince the governor that what he was doing was wrong. Obviously some lies have been told by Conway, and I need to somehow set them straight."

Jack nodded, but was began looking at her curiously. "You've talked to my mother recently?"

"Yes; _my _mother still lives at Ethereal Heights. Where did you expect me to go?"

"I…well, nowhere I suppose." He sighed and focused on Antigua, which was certainly nearer than before; though he appeared _too _alert and attentive to what he was doing, like a person hiding a thought, and Lynn suddenly had a feeling Jack was thinking about something entirely different.

"She's doing well, your mother," Lynn blurted out. "I mean, obviously she's aged…but she's still healthy. You do know your father died, though. Right?"

Jack glanced over at her, partially in surprise, but a little remorseful too. "I…no, I wasn't aware of that. He was getting old." He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped himself and grimaced at the horizon and stood straighter. Jack looked strong-willed, firmly planted at the helm like that, but his strange reactions to her comments made Lynn think harder.

"She misses you," she added softly. "And at this point I don't think she'd care who you were or what you've become, as long as you came back."

"I can't go back," huffed Jack, now looked very vexed, his brown eyes squinting with annoyance. "My old family is too proper to accept a _pirate _into their midst. And I don't particularly miss Etheral Heights; I have no need to go back."

"It's your mother, Jack. I don't think--"

"Are you ready to dock?"

Lynn blinked at his abrupt change in subject. "Well…I suppose not."

"Go gather your things, then, and let me do my job."

At the sudden harshness of this tone, Lynn jumped, but gladly walked away, vaguely noticing Trevor shadowing her, going on about one thing or another. So Jack was the one protecting the aunt's estate…despite her still hot hatred toward him, Lynn grudgingly accepted that maybe this act of love could be a little redeeming, proof that Jacob Price, or Jack Sparrow, was not all bad eggs after all.

Jack had his own problems to think about, but namely, how had she known? Not about his aunt's estate, but about his mother; though he could never bring himself to say it to even Gibbs, (who knew more about him that any man ought to know), he really did miss his mother…

* * *

While it made sense, Lynn was still perturbed that they had to dock in a small cove, about two miles from Antigua, to stay safe and out of sight. That meant a long, three mile walk to the mansion that was potentially under attack, and Lynn had certainly never walked that far in any type of forest. She may have been the owner of the Ramsey Company, and sailed more than most women, but in all respects, she was still a lady--and ladies simply did not take those type of walks.

Though her stubborn will lasted her most of the way, Lynn's body just could not seem to go any farther for the last stretch, and the company halted grudgingly. She had placed herself on a boulder, and was fanning her face with her straw hat, but making motions to the surrounding men to keep moving and not bother waiting for her.

"Lynn Ramsey, get up and start walking. You're perfectly capable of finishing this last half of a mile," ordered Jack, sweat dripping from his own reddened face. It was an unusually hot afternoon, a fact Lynn had not noticed on the ship (where there had been wind), but one that was glaringly clear now.

"Jack, I am in a _dress_. A cotton dress for that matter, and I am dying. I can hardly walk in these brambles as it is because my hem keeps getting caught. If I were in breeches, it might be easier, but as it is, I'm not. Not to mention," she continued with a huff, "I am significantly out of breath and would appreciate a moment to rest. You and everyone else can go ahead. I don't mind waiting and catching up later. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not going to leave you here and have to go looking for you when you get yourself lost," growled Jack. "If there's one thing that I've learned about you so far, it's that you are certainly more resilient than you give yourself credit for. Now get up."

She sighed resignedly and forced herself to stand. "You know, a road would have been much more practical, especially since it's surely faster and easier to tread on; not to mention my skirt wouldn't get so torn up," Lynn added under her breath.

Unfortunately, Jack heard her, and turned back around to stalk up to her, towering over like a pole. "You have a complaint about your dress? Well, I can certainly do something about _that_." In a few swift motions, Jack bent down and hiked her skirts up so that he could tie them between her legs, making a pair of makeshift breeches.

Lynn screeched and tried to undo the knot, but Jack slapped her hands and dragged her forward. "This is absolutely scandalous! You let me undo it this instant!"

"Walk," was Jack's impatient reply.

Lynn flushed a deep red at she looked at the men, a few of whom were staring pointedly at her now exposed legs. "Well, if you are going to humiliate me like this, at least tell your men to behave decently."

"Do you promise to shut up and walk?" he asked, more intolerant that ever.

Lynn nodded.

"If you scallywags don't keep your eyes to yourselves, I assure you, I will personally poke them out with my sword, before Miss Ramsey pokes mine out herself. Understood?" ordered Jack, frustration creeping into his voice.

The response was a lot of heads turning, away from Lynn.

"I wouldn't poke your eyes out for this, or any thing, for that matter," she said, almost with a twinge of indignation.

"Well, I don't put it beyond _you_," huffed Jack, pulling at her arm when she slowed down. "Didn't you say something about shutting up?"

The rest of the walk to the mansion was up hill, embarrassing, and very silent. Lynn couldn't help but notice that the arrival to Antigua was certainly worse than on the ship; hopefully it could only get better from here.


	10. Chances

AN: Okay...so this is another kinda slow chapter...but I like it anyway. Originally, I was never planning on developing Trevor into much of a character, but I've changed my mind. I've decided he's a pretty cool kid, so I can promise you'll be seeing more of him (or at least more than I orginally planned).

A thousand thanks to all those that reviewed: I am not lying when I say you are my heroes.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

The mansion was not far out, less than a quarter of a mile away, when gun shots were heard.

Jack looked back at Lynn with an expression that suggested he was expecting her to scream, but all she did was stare at him impatiently. "Well, what are we going to do?"

He narrowed his eyes, but cocked a grin at her. "So you'll complain about walking three miles, but bullets don't phase you."

Lynn had her arms crossed and head cocked in a flash. "I've experienced bullets before; walking through brambles and thorns, however, was first experienced today. And I really was out of breath and needed a break--"

The bark of a tree nearby blew into a thousand pieces, and all men crouched over. Lynn found herself smothered by Jack, who had body slammed her to the ground; dirt and leaves had managed to find their way into her mouth, leaving her to sit there and sputter while Jack rose.

When she finally did get up, Lynn resembled nothing of a lady: her hair was in knots and sweaty, her face red as a cherry, and her dress, now tied up, all ratted and torn. Dirt was smeared across her cheek due to the sudden fall from Jack smacking her to the ground. "We aren't going to the mansion _now_, are we?"

Jack smirked at her tone, grudgingly admiring her stubbornness. "Well, _you _certainly aren't. Gibbs, take Marty, Bartholomew, Miles, and George and give us some bearings of what is going on at the mansion. Lynn, you can walk that way and circle around to the back--no one, at least enemy wise, should be there."

Lynn looked over her shoulder toward where Jack had been pointing, wasting no energy to try and hide her annoyance at being brushed to the side like a pesky fly. "Alone? Surely you wouldn't leave me unarmed."

Jack cocked an eyebrow, and his smirk grew larger. "Since when could you use a sword?"

Lynn rolled her eyes and folded her arms, wincing slightly as more gunshots were heard. "I can't--I _can _use pistols, however. Ambrose thought it best to teach me. And frankly, from the sound of things out there, a pistol is going to be of much more use than any sword."

She noticed that a few of the men were mildly impressed (only a few); Jack's expression hardly changed from his Cheshire grin. "Very well, you can have one of my pistols." He removed the weapon and shoved it into her hands before adding, "Don't lose that. I paid dearly for that."

Lynn snorted and glared at him briefly, thinking, _Probably with blood_, but instead said "How do you expect me to lose a pistol?"

The conversation was on the verge of turning into another argument, but Trevor unexpectedly interrupted, his eyes bright and adventurous. "Can I go with her? That way she won't have to be alone. And anyhow, I know my way through these woods like the back of my hand--she'll come away unharmed and herself."

Lynn heard Jack mutter something to the effect of, "Who says I want her unharmed?", but clenched her teeth and waited for a reply, glancing carefully at the eager fourteen year old boy who had apparently adopted her as his own charge. At least if she went with him, she'd have a better chance of getting through without injury; that much was clear.

More gun shots were heard, closer this time, and everyone ducked in unison.

Jack turned his head worriedly toward the fighting, then looked back at Lynn and rolled his eyes. "Very well, Trevor, please escort our guest to the mansion and to a suitable living space--I wouldn't want her thinking we lack manners, despite the rough, outside appearance we have," he finished sardonically. "The rest of us will be warming up our guns."

Trevor, with a wide grin, clasped Lynn's hand and began guiding (dragging) her through the underbrush. "This path won't be too hard, though your legs will get mighty scratched up. Do you want to take a moment and release Jack's…ah…invention?"

Lynn plowed ahead studiously, but still breathing hard. "No matter. My legs are already scratched up as it is. And I'd imagine this is going to be a great deal easier to walk with than my skirts, at least for the time being. How far to the mansion?"

A bullet hit a tree not twenty feet next to them. Trevor grabbed Lynn's arm and forced her to the further side. "Depends on how much we need to back track to get to the rear door. I sure hope there aren't any men there. I haven't a chance with my pistols."

Sweat dripped in Lynn's eyes, and she wiped it away impatiently. "Why in the world do you have them if you can't shoot with them?"

"Well, there's always the chance that I'll hit my target, right? I'm better with my sword, truthfully, but as you mentioned earlier, swords aren't going to be much use."

"This is a rather pleasant predicament then, now isn't it?" mumbled Lynn sarcastically. "How many times has this happened before? The mansion being attacked and all."

"Just about every time we show up--it seems like they're bombarding the place. That poor aunt too, sitting in the middle of all this. I have yet to actually meet her though. Must be a piece of work by now, after all this fighting right in her front yard."

"How have you not met her?" Lynn asked breathlessly. "Wait, wait. I really can't go on now, I need to catch my breath. We're safe here, right?"

Trevor looked back at her impatiently, but nodded. "I suppose. What's so hard about running?"

"I've never really had to run before," panted Lynn. "And certainly not in situations like these. How do you think I grew up? I've spent more time than was probably good for me in the lap of luxury…or as luxurious as being a maid gets. And you have yet to answer my question."

"Jack hasn't ever entered the house before--we just know our way around the place from fighting so much."

Lynn frowned at this strange revelation. "He doesn't go in the house? Why ever not?"

Trevor shrugged. "Family problems, I suppose. How have you gotten mixed up in all this anyway? I heard the men talking about how you was planning on coming here anyhow, before Jack got it in his head to kidnap you."

Lynn opened her mouth to answer, but realized that it would be a little more complicated than a simple "I'm here because…"

Taking one more deep breath, Lynn began her explanation. "I happen to know he mother very well, and she asked me to come to talk to the governor. Well, she wanted the Ramsey Company to talk to the governor, but I suppose I'll have to do for the time being--"

"I thought you live with the Price family. What does that have to do with the Captain?"

Lynn grimaced. Trevor was a bright lad with a spectacular memory for her past history. "They're one and the same--Jack changed his name from Jacob when he ran away."

The boy's eyes widened, then settled into a disgusted look. "Jack is Jacob? The bully? No wonder you two don't get along! I'm surprised that you're still civil with him--me personally, not to say it's right, but I'd have pounded him flat."

She snorted at his spirit, though rather doubted Trevor had that much anger store up. "Well, unlike you, I do not have the capacity to 'pound' him. And in some respects, I'm not really talking to Jacob…" Lynn sighed and shrugged. "I can't quite explain why, but Jack isn't really Jacob."

Trevor nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we better get walking again. The mansion is just about over this hill."

It was a steep hill with lots of roots and bushes lining the edge of the rough path. Lynn blanched. "Lets wait for another moment. I don't think I'm quite ready yet. I want to get it done in one walk, and I don't have my breath back at the moment."

Trevor wasn't shy about his confusion. "How hard can it be to walk? I know it's a steep climb, but it's not that long. What are you wearing, a corset?"

The comment was meant as a joke (he having enough experience with corsets from lacing up his mother), but if Lynn hadn't already been red, Trevor would have seen her go scarlet. "Well, how else am I supposed to wear this dress?"

The fourteen-year-old boy gaped, then began laughing. "You're wearing a corset? Have you been wearing it the entire trip?"

Lynn narrowed her eyes, but replied calmly, "I've worn a corset most of my adult life; like just about every other women I know. Why would that change if I was on a ship?"

Trevor could hardly respond he was laughing so hard. "Because--because it's not---_practical_."

She found it rather annoying Trevor was taking so much pleasure from her pain, and laughing at, what seemed to her, common sense. "I don't see what is so amusing. And what is this business about practical?"

It took a full minute before the boy was composed enough to say anything. "I know that I just met you, Lynn, but from what little talking you have done, I thought I had you figured out, more or less. I mean, you're not like any other lady I've met before."

"Trevor, you're only interaction with girls appears to have been in taverns--considering that--"

"Yes, but…" he shook his head and shrugged. "You're practical. Everything you do makes sense and has a reason. So I was expecting you to think practically and see that…well, corsets just aren't practical. In any situation, really." He smirked, one of his widest yet. "I'm surprised you wear one at all."

Lynn sniffed and began undoing the knot Jack had created. "I like to think of myself as practical, but I still try to keep a sense or propriety. Practical or not, I am still a lady, and should behave as such."

"So being pretty takes priority over being smart."

"NO! That isn't what I said, Trevor!"

He became, suddenly, very serious. "Behaving like a lady involves a lot more than just looking like one. And being a lady doesn't mean you have to act like all the other ladies out there."

The comment seemed to awaken Lynn's senses, catching her off-guard, and a little confused. This idea had truly never entered her mind before; possibly due to the fact she had two older sisters she was trying to emulate, but also that society seemed to instill the idea that there was only one way to be a perfect women. "Who told you that?"

Trevor shrugged. "My mum. She may have not been the brightest girl around, not nearly as smart as you, but…she did have a few things straight in her life. A person could do some mighty great things in their life, but they weren't nothing if they weren't gracious, forgiving, and loving. Always told me I'd be the perfect gentleman if I kept those three things; and I believe her. All I can figure is that, if that makes the perfect gentleman, then surely it must make the perfect lady. And there's no set way to be gracious, forgiving, or loving--people do it all sorts of ways."

Lynn was silent, staring at her hands; hands she had gone through pains to keep smooth and soft, though now they were bleeding and rough. A lot of her time, though she was almost ashamed to admit it, was spent trying to keep within the personae of a lady. Jack's words, from only the night before, came floating back to her: _You don't want to be seen as foolish. Because that's all you think you have: your dignity_.

She had always been concerned with her dignity--gorgeous women had seemed to get their way, but since that was not a particular virtue of hers, Lynn knew her best chance at making it in life was to be dignified, which essentially added up to acting like a lady ought to. Had she spent too much time worrying?

"Trevor, do you think you could cut my corset loose? We're never going to make it up the hill if you don't--and I don't want you carrying me up. That would be ridiculous."

Trevor nodded and began undoing her buttons to the dress.

"You know, you're mother was right," Lynn added. "And I think you are quite the perfect gentleman."

He snorted as he started cutting the stays. "I have a long way to go."

She shrugged. "At least you're working toward it. That's more than _some _men I know can say."

"Talking about the Captain?"

"Yes. I'd imagine he lost any ability to become anything less than a rascal twelve years ago."

Trevor was silent until he was done, but when Lynn stood up and took a deep breath (goodness, she hardly ever felt this good!), he said, "You know, Jacob sounds like a horrid person. But if you think that Jack isn't Jacob, maybe you could consider giving him a chance."

Lynn whipped around, ready to retort about exactly why Jack deserved no chances whatsoever, but stopped, her mouth hanging open and her eyes bewildered. Jack? Second chances? He had crossed the line last night with his little punishment. And he had refused to say sorry.

At her expression, Trevor bowed his head and muttered. "It was just an idea. Captain Sparrow isn't a bad man…he just, needs a little help, is all."

Lynn didn't even breath, but clenched her teeth. How could she give him a second chance?

The walk up the hill was fast (thanks to the lack of the corset), but very silent.

It was hard to admit, but Lynn rather thought that maybe this fourteen-year-old, chatter box boy understood life much better than herself.

* * *

They arrived at the mansion quickly, only to find a group of soldiers retreating and pirates cheering. Jack had been faulty in his directions: the way he had pointed them sent them all the way around the mansion, and near the front entrance, so Lynn had a perfect view of the grounds, which was littered with wounded men, and a few dead. The scrimmage had been short and fierce, but not too bloody, much to the relief of both parties.

"Lynn, why aren't you at the mansion?" called out Jack. His shoulder was red, and she eyed it carefully. "Just a shallow cut that's bleeding a lot. Nothing to worry about."

"You sent us this way, remember? Apparently, the path went a little farther than you were expecting."

Jack shrugged. "Very well. Lucky you didn't show up ten minutes earlier--might have been seriously wounded. What is _that_?"

His tone had gone from mildly bored to intensely interested, and Lynn followed his gaze to Trevor, who was holding her corset. She blushed furiously and snatched it away from the poor lad, who seemed confused at Jack's sudden curiosity. "You didn't need to carry it all this way! And I'm sure you know perfectly well what _this _is," she snarled back at Jack, who's grin was more than indecent. "For you're information--"

"I need none. I'm just surprised you were ever wearing that contraption."

"Well, I'm going to explain anyway, before you continue with some disgusting idea. Trevor removed it for me; it's why we weren't here ten minutes earlier."

"Saved by the corset--never thought that would be possible."

Lynn wanted to say something very nasty back, but all she could seem to muster at the moment (she was physically exhausted) was, "Oh, you're so terribly immature!"

Jack roared with laughter. "There's no need to be mad at me! I didn't say anything worth getting mad at."

To slap him at that moment would have been very fulfilling, but Lynn knew that if it came to 'pounding him flat', as Trevor had put it earlier, she would lose. "For heavens sake, I know perfectly well what you're thinking, you vile scut."

Jack raised an eyebrow and glared at her, though still with some humor in his eyes. "Surely you weren't expecting me to be a gentleman; I am a _pirate_, after all."

"That's no excuse--"

But his hand covered her mouth before she could finishing, pinning itself down when she tried to struggle out. "Trevor, go help Gibbs getting the hurt into the mansion's parlor area. As for you," Jack turned on Lynn, "you need to be meeting my aunt. Now walk."

Initially, she was intent on doing the exact opposite of his orders, but she never got that option for he had taken both shoulders and was forcefully leading her toward the entrance. "I suppose you'll be introducing me?"

"Hardly--I don't go in if I can help it."

"Why not? It's just your aunt; or great aunt, if you want to be specific."

"For two reasons, dear Lillian. One, I've never met her before, and I'm not exactly the type to get chummy with people I don't know. And two, I honestly don't care much about her at all."

Lynn snorted. "You can feel one way or another about people unless you've met them, you fool. And why in the world are you protecting the estate if you don't care about her."

"One word, luv. Treasure."

The only reason Lynn managed to escape Jack's hold was because her reaction was so fast, she hardly even knew what she was doing. Spinning around, she hissed, "You're protecting the estate for _treasure_?" She wasn't sure why, but at this revelation, Lynn was livid.

Jack sensed the danger as well, and grasped both wrists to pin them down. "Why do you keep expecting such great things from me? Why _else _would I be doing anything like this?"

Lynn fought back best she could, but instead of simply pinning her wrists down, Jack changed his hold to be constraining her whole body. Seeing her attempts as fruitless, Lynn seethed, "You came from a better family that this. You have no heart, and no feelings! Where in the world did you go wrong? _When_?"

"I fail to see why you're even concerned at all, _Miss Ramsey_."

"You kidnapped me! And now you're dragging me all across the ocean for who knows _what _purpose! The least you could do is behave decently--and you've failed on that account in just about every interaction I've had with you so far!"

"So as compensation for you're precarious position, you want me to behaving properly." Jack's humor was leaving fast, and his grip on Lynn was tightening.

She gasped in frustration and shock. "Yes! No! Oh, I don't know! For goodness sake, Jack, let me go. I don't know what I want."

"Promise not to maim me?"

Lynn growled and rolled her eyes but nodded, and Jack released her.

"I didn't think you'd ever _not _know what you wanted," he mumbled, his good mood returning quickly, seemingly due to Lynn's frustration.

"Just go away from me," she sighed, walking toward the great mansion now. "I wouldn't want you introducing me anyway--probably say some horrible lie instead of a proper introduction."

"You know, Lynn, it wouldn't hurt you to give me a chance," Jack called back.

She paused, wanting to hit him for reminding her of what Trevor had said, but when she turned around, Jack was already strutting away, leaving her to walk to the mansion alone, and with her thoughts. Too many things had happened in the last few days, and Lynn was becoming ever more stressed.

She wanted to scream. Or hit something.

But all she did was enter the front door demurely and close it, wondering what would happen to her now.

What it worth it to give Jack the chance?


	11. The Governor and What Came After

AN: Thank you to all who have reviewed! You are what keeps me going! (most of the time, anyway)

Hmm...still can't think of much to say, at least concerning this chapter...and I need to leave soon, so I will stop my rambling and let you read on!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

"I really don't think I should be the one talking to him," answered Lynn with a twinge of annoyance, if not a little fear.

The comment was directed at Jack, who was walking at a brisk pace, arm linked with Lynn to help, or more correctly force, her keep up. They were headed toward the governor's mansion to persuade him that he was helping the wrong side. Neither Jack or Lynn knew what lies Conway was feeding to the gullible man, but both were sure they could easily convince him otherwise; after all, if he could believe Conway, surely he would believe _them_.

"Well, I certainly can't go talking with him; I'm a wanted man," shot back Jack testily. His had was shadowing his face, giving him a slightly dangerous look, but naturally, it didn't phase her in the least.

"Why are you escorting me there then?" muttered Lynn trotting to keep with Jack's large stride, something she was not quite used to. Her legs were certainly long enough to keep up (Lynn regretted to say she had hardly any torso), but after years of training herself to keep pace with her significantly shorter sisters, it was something of a stretch to suddenly walk like a man. Jack seemed to stretch everything about her; temper, patience, walking…it was a chore to be around him.

Yet the past three days had been manageable--that is, the three days at the mansion. Lynn hardly wanted to remember the days on the ship. Partly, this was due to the fact that Jack wasn't at his aunt's house at all, so contact was short and sweet. And when they were together, Trevor had always been right next to Lynn, and it seemed that Jack tended to behave himself when another party was present, even if it was just a child. Today was the first time since arriving that the two were alone together. And though right now both were behaving, Lynn could already feel tensions rising.

"I am escorting you there because I would not put it beyond you to attempt an escape."

"For heavens sake, Jack, I came to the Caribbean with a purpose--to help your family. I'm not going to leave until everything is done; after that I'll worry about escaping."

"Ha! A confession!" exclaimed the captain, shoving a long finger into her face.

Lynn pushed it aside and frowned. "You know perfectly well I want to leave _your _presence. But you also ought to know that I'm not fool enough to try anything like that on the spur of the moment. Have no fear--I'm not going anywhere soon."

Jack huffed, but turned away and continued walking.

Lynn's impatient tone wasn't strange to him, but at the moment, the reason for her uneasiness wasn't Jack (for a change). It was talking to the governor.

Truth of the matter was, Lynn was terrified; before this, it had always been Ambrose doing any talking, and Lynn had very little experience in public speaking. She was afraid of making a fool of herself, and in front of a governor, no less. Now would have been an excellent time to be on good terms with Jack, for she needed support. But support wasn't going to come from him anytime soon.

Unfortunately, he quickly sensed her worry--it appeared Jack had an uncanny ability to know when she was not pleased.

"What are you fretting about? I've talked to governors plenty of times, it's not that hard." He smiled winningly, showing a few gold teeth.

"You've probably talked to them from the gallows! Or the court at least!" snapped back Lynn, glaring at this expression. Her hair blew into her face, and what she had intended to be an insult became something a little more humorous as Lynn fought to keep the unruly strands out of her eyes and mouth.

Jack grinned. "Are you going to do anything but glare at me? I can't think of a time you've ever smiled."

"I've smiled plenty of times--usually because you're not around, hence the reason you haven't witnessed it," was Lynn's fiery response.

Jack pursed his lips, a look almost like Lynn's. This women had no pity for him; and here he was trying to be…somewhat civil. It was very hard to be civil with Lynn. "I think I liked it better when we were talking about the governor."

"Same." Lynn's expression changed from frustration to slight fear. Jack noticed it with amusement.

"Don't know what to say to the fellow?"

Lynn flashed her hazel eye at him briefly, then nodded. The suddenly adjustment in tone from the pirate was a little disconcerting, but probably for the better.

"Here you are, running a company, and you can't do anything as simple as address someone in authority. How in the world have you managed so far?"

"Ambrose always was the talking head! As far as our customers are concerned, he's the head of the Ramsey Company. No one is going to take a women seriously, let alone a twenty-year-old girl! It's just not how society functions!"

"And who said you had to function the same way as society?" shot back Jack, smiling widely now. It appeared he had found a definite weakness in Miss Lillian Ramsey, and he was liking it.

"First Trevor, now you…" muttered Lynn under her breath, kicking a stray rock, and stumbling because of it. She had spent most of her life trying to become the lady everyone expected, and now the two people she was most accompanied by found it their duty to change that aspect.

"What was this about Trevor?"

"None of your business," growled Lynn. "I suppose _you've _been defying society all these years, no?"

Jack smirked puckishly. "How else would I have gotten where I am now?"

"And I can see how _you've _turned out--if that's what I'm going to turn into, then no thank you. I will keep being a lady."

"That's quite a mouthful to assume," snapped Jack bluntly, giving Lynn a strong yank, "You speak as if I'm all bad and no good. Can't you at least give me one nice word?"

Lynn looked up at his face, now lit up by the noon sun. Part of it was teasing, expecting a smart remark for being cheeky…but the other part was serious. Maybe he really did want a nice word.

_Give him a chance…_

If anything was going to be a stretch, being nice--no, kind--to Jack was certainly it. But maybe it would be worth it. Maybe.

"Thank you, Jack," said Lynn, keeping control of her voice so as to not give away any emotion she might be feeling. They had arrived at the mansion, a big, hulking white building, and were next to the large, iron-wrought gates.

He raised an eyebrow regally. "Was that you're kind word? Pray, what are you thanking me for?"

"For escorting me here. Do you think…you could stay? I can't remember the way back." She turned away so he couldn't see her blushing; the request was embarrassing, but unfortunately, needed.

Jack turned her around to face him, catching her chin. "Miss Lynn Ramsey, asking for _my _help? I never thought I'd see the day."

Instinctively, Lynn opened her mouth to retort, but Jack put a finger over her lips. "Don't. I'd like to leave with some remnants of fondness, or I might not come back. Now, what's wrong?"

At that moment, all the fear Lynn was hiding for facing the governor came flooding to her eyes, giving her a desperate, frantic look. What Jack was seeing were Lynn's fruitless attempts to squelch her terror.

For a moment, she didn't say anything, but kept her lips tightly shut; after a few moments of looking into Jack's eyes, however, Lynn broke down. "I don't know what to say. I don't even know how to address him correctly! How can I expect him to take me seriously if I don't know the basic--"

Jack started laughing, and Lynn was prepared to slap him until she realized the laugh wasn't mocking--it was just laughing. When she saw his face again, his eyes looked thoughtful, and understanding. "Lynn, if you talk to him like you talk to me, the governor will take you seriously. Just don't hurl any Shakespearean insults at him. Now get in there before I throw you up the walkway myself. I'm thirsty, and would like to go get a drink--and don't fret, I'll come back for you."

He turned her around and slapped her heartily on the back, sending her stumbling forward to the gates.

It turned out that when Lynn was introduced to the governor, she was not nearly as nervous as she had expected--though she was terribly confused on account of Jack.

Had that actually been…kindness?

* * *

"Not to be rude, governor, but you do realize that the owner of this estate is a eighty three year old lady?"

The governor was a regal looking man, but that was the only look of "regality" that he possessed; it was easy to see now why Derek Conway was able to convince him to lend him troops. Flatter the man and you get what you want.

Unfortunately, Lynn had never been gifted in flattering people, so she was hoping that her common sense would speak to the many advisors there, who would then in turn flatter the governor.

From what she could tell, Derek had spouted some lies on how that land was stolen from the governor's own family, and that he found it his duty to regain it, as a citizen of the colony of Antigua. Everything about the lie was…pathetic. Creativity was lacking, as was plausible proof. Flattery had to have been the only way Conway had gotten away with it.

Thankfully, it was because of the ridiculousness of the lie that Lynn sensed weakness. The three men surrounding the governor were not flighty--they had sturdy heads on their shoulders, and all of them seemed more or less convinced.

"Why has the lady not come to plead her case?" asked the governor. Stupid as though he was, the fellow was certainly stubborn. She had been standing there for an hour now, answering various questions of who she was, why she had come, and how she knew of the problem. Finally they were addressing the actual issue.

"She's eighty-five, and has a hard time walking long distances. And I'd imagine she was frightened from the gunfire."

"And of the men protecting the place?

"I don't know them personally. Good neighbors, I suppose, or lost seamen. I am grateful to them, and the Price family as well."

That particular comment was a lie, but the governor seemed to swallow it with ease. It was almost disgusting to see how simply this man could be won over even if it was working to Lynn's advantage. Hardly fit to govern at all.

"Governor, are you sure this is a wise choice? I mean, this could very well be your former estate. Are you willing to give that up?"

The man who had spoken was a small, stout fellow, with blonde hair that was thinning and light brown eyes that twitched. The aurora around him stank of malice and deceit.

"We can quite easily provide proof of ownership, if that is what you require," snapped Lynn. "What is your name?"

"So direct," he sniffed. "Are you always this ill behaved?"

"This family is very dear to me, and to see the government of Antigua treat this innocent lady with such disdain is angering. I would hope to find the king's representatives a little more fair in their decisions," responded Lynn quietly, forcing herself to hold her head high.

"Shut it, Orson," groaned one of the three advisors next to the governor. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were being strongly biased toward your brother."

Orson glared daggers at the speaking man, but drew back.

Lynn stared at this Orson figure a while longer though. Brother? To Conway? Maybe Derek hadn't been the only one doing the flattering.

"Sir, what this young lady is proposing certainly falls more within the realm of possibilities than Derek's original suggestion," continued another advisor. "I personally would suggest removing the troops unless we find evidence otherwise."

"As to I," said another.

The governor looked thoughtfully at Lynn, or as thoughtful as he was capable of looking. "You are a very interesting young lady. What is your connection with the company again?"

Lynn swallowed; she had decided it was best to not make herself the owner of the company, and instead a relative. "My…uncle is the owner. But he's away at the colonies right now, and Mrs. Price needed this problem resolved right away. He couldn't have left."

"What of any sons?"

"No sons; or daughters. He was never married."

"And so they send a young girl to plead the case."

Lynn held her breath, trying to think of a sensible response. If she fouled up now, the governor might not change his mind. "Can you say I did any injustice coming here? I personally requested that I come, for I wanted to help this family myself. Now I may not be an official reprehensive, but this is not official business--this is personal."

The advisors nodded approvingly, and governor noted their reactions. "Very well. The argument seems firm. Orson, you can go inform your brother that he no longer has command of the troops for any reason."

Twenty minutes later, Lynn breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the governor's mansion. So everything was going to be alright after all; she hadn't made a fool of herself, the governor was on their side now, and the Price's estate would be protected.

Nothing could possibly go wrong now.

* * *

"You're telling me that a scrawny, mousy girl persuaded the governor, along with his advisors, to take back his troops?"

Orson hunched over his mug of rum and muttered something under his breath.

Derek, unfortunately, hear the mumbling, and grabbed him by the collar. He was a tall man, as opposed to his brother; thin, and with a face like a skeleton, his own thick blonde hair was generally fluffed out in a crazed manner. His bright blue eyes only added to the effect, and effect that scared many men into submission. The effect he was using on his brother now.

"What was that, Orson?"

The poor brother clenched his jaw and his mug. As a matter of fact, Derek _was _mad, due to a kick from a horse twelve years ago. Before that time, the two brothers had been polar opposites--Derek being the more stately and obedient brother. He had been on his way to becoming a successful minister, and was planning to move to England. Orson had always had problems with the law. After the accident, which Derek couldn't remember, Orson had made it his business to mold him into a partner for this smuggling and other generally devious actions. Unfortunately, the madness was stronger than he had first assumed, leaving him to obey every wish of his insane, and now seriously crooked, brother.

"Your story wasn't strong to begin with, Derek. I've known all along that if anyone were to come and defend the Prices, we would lose the support. The only reason the governor helped in the first place was because he's a buffoon."

Derek dropped his hand and resumed his pacing. "What was the name? Of the girl."

"Miss Lynn Ramsey."

"Ramsey? Connection to the Ramsey company?"

"Uncle is the owner, apparently."

"Why did she come?"

Orson shrugged, more calm now that Derek seemed less likely to…strike out. "Called the whole affair a 'personal matter.' Apparently she's very close to the Price family."

"And the men defending the place? Did she give an explanation for them?"

"Has no idea who they are. Mighty glad to see them there, though."

Derek narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Odd. The whole situation is…odd. This Miss Ramsey seems intent on hiding things. And I'm going to make it my business to find them out. I want that treasure, and no mere girl is going to get in my way."

"You're not invincible, Derek," moaned Orson. "And there are plenty other ways to get money. Why are we bothering with this one?"

Derek snarled and lifted his brother up against the wall, foaming at the mouth. "Do I need a reason, little brother?"

Orson gulped, or tried to gulp, and shook his head violently. Smirking evilly, Derek dropped him and let him fall to the ground into a huddled heap.

"No, _you _certainly don't need a reason…" he whispered to the wooden planks.

* * *

"You can't…_leave _me here!" screeched Lynn.

She was addressing Jack, once again. Two days had passed since talking to the governor, and no attacks had occurred. It was enough of a sign for Jack that everything was going to be okay, and he had decided to depart.

At the moment, they were facing off on the steps to the mansion, Lynn standing there helpless and angry, Jack pacing impatiently. He had gotten his ship ready last night, and had hoped to leave that morning without any trouble, but Lynn, on a whim it appeared, had decided to come and "chat"--just as everyone was breaking camp. She had dragged him to the mansion to discuss things, but nothing had been compromised.

"Lynn, listen to me; the boys are getting restless. We're pirates! We need to go…pillage and plunder and all that. What good am I going to do here anyway?"

Lynn pursed her lips and folded her arms. "You do realize how unfair this all is; kidnapping me, dragging me across the Caribbean, and now…dumping me at Antigua."

"Things certainly did not go as planned," conceded Jack, tapping his hilt impatiently and looking toward the sea. "You ought to be grateful that I left you with people you know. I could just have easily dropped you off in South America; then where would you be?"

Lynn rolled her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear, hair that was blowing uncontrollably in the wind. She still wanted to tuck it up in a bun, but Jack's threat was strong. At least when he left, her hair would be her own to manage. "And what am I to do with your aunt? She can hardly hear me as it is; and two ladies, alone in a house, is hardly safe at all."

"My aunt managed on her own for years after her husband died."

"And what of that treasure you were talking of?" asked Lynn, trying a new tactic. "Aren't you in the least bit interested in that?"

"There'll be time in the future," said Jack with a wave, but then, grinning suggestively, strutted up to her face and added, "What do you want me here so badly for, anyway? If I had known you'd miss me _this _much--"

"Oh, honestly," snapped Lynn, turning her face away, but feeling herself blushing nonetheless. "If you're so intent on leaving, go on and do it. The only reason I'd want you here is because I'm not familiar with the area and you are. But that, of course, can be remedied quickly."

Jack grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, his new smile growing wider. "That was a fast change of tune. First you're begging me to stay, and now you're pushing me away. What _are _you thinking?"

"You make it sound as if…as if…" Lynn shut her mouth and struggled to get out of Jack's grasp, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

"As if what?"

"Nothing! Never mind what I said, it hardly matters," she said, now trying to pull her hands free.

Jack snorted and changed his grasp to her shoulders, keeping Lynn firmly in place. "As if we had a relationship. I know perfectly well what you're thinking."

Lynn glowered and looked away at the stone tiles on the floor, flushing furiously. "The only relationship we have is a nasty one."

"We _could _make it a good one," said Jack softly.

Lynn flashed her eyes at him and froze. His face was serious; no teasing glint or malicious smile. She wanted to say something to break the silence, something that could shift the mood to a more light-hearted (or at least less personal) feeling. But she couldn't.

After a long pause, Jack shook his head slowly and let her go. "I don't understand you, Lynn. What are you looking for?"

"You understand me better than some," she mumbled, casting her eyes down.

"What--?" Jack started, his expression suddenly very curious and confused, but a voice from inside stopped him abruptly. It was his aunt, calling for Lynn, and she was coming down the main stairs fast. He gritted his teeth in frustration and looked back at Lynn. "I'll come back in a few months. Given circumstances provide for that."

"A few _months_? Are you mad?" gasped Lynn. But Jack was already strutting down the pathway, toward his ship, his head swaying cockily.

A few months? Here? At Antigua? What was she to do? She had a company to run, a family to take care of!

Lynn closed her eyes and blocked out the calls of the elderly aunt for a moment. So she was here--she'd make the best of it. And not think of Jack.

Somehow.


	12. Danger at Antigua

AN: Okay, so this is a really short (and horribly uneventful) chapter, but it just needed to off on its own. I DO promise it will get more interesting! And thank you to all who are loyally reading this story; you are my heroes!

Reviews are still loved...hint hint, wink, wink ;)

As always, enjoy.

* * *

It turned out Lynn never had a chance for her greatest fear, constantly thinking about Jack, to truly take hold. She had been counting on being alone with the aunt, and the men still defending the place.

What she hadn't counted on was Trevor.

Initially, she was fearful for the boy--after all, deserting was pretty much punishable by death in most situations--but it turned out that everything had been settled with Jack last minute. He had asked to stay, arguing he, at only fourteen, wasn't that important on a ship run by full grown men.

Whatever the case, Trevor had seemed to make his sole purpose in life accompanying Lynn, wherever she may go. It was a little disconcerting, even if not unwelcome. And after about a week, Lynn decided maybe they should discuss the issue, just incase he found it necessary to trail her back to England.

"You know, I am grateful that you stayed," she said. They were sitting in the library after dinner. The aunt was in bed already--she slept most of the time, it seemed.

Trevor shrugged. "No problem. I like you--at least better than anyone else on the ship."

Lynn nodded in agreement, then looked back at the boy. "Why did you want to stay? Really? Aside from the fact you like me."

Trevor bunched his forehead thoughtfully. "Are you not used to have good friends?"

Lynn started at the question; that had not been a response she was expecting. "I…well…what do you mean?"

"Good friends. Like someone you spend all your time with."

"You mean like a sister. Or a brother."

"Except not related to you."

Lynn tucked a stray strand of hair away, now almost ashamed to answer. She had had friends in England, when she was still a girl, but as she had grown older, and gained the company, she had hardly had time for people outside her family. "I…suppose not. I never…got around much, society-wise."

Trevor shrugged again. "Well, then you can consider me your first good friend. That's why I wanted to stay with you. You're my friend."

"I…why? I mean, not that I'm disagreeing, but we've only known each other for less than a month."

The boy smiled, a smile that lit up his whole face. "You listen to me and actually talk with me. Not many people had done that, especially on the_ Pearl_. And you're nice, and smart. You're just…a good friend. I'm surprised that you don't have more."

"Um…thank you, I suppose," answered Lynn quietly.

Part of the other dilemma, that Lynn hadn't been willing to ask Trevor, was she was fearful that he liked her…more than a friend. At only fourteen, it would have been uncommon, but not altogether unheard of; the fact that he liked her as a friend was reassuring.

And consequently, Lynn suddenly found that her days at Antigua were much more enjoyable. When she wasn't sitting around at the mansion reading or strolling the grounds, she would drag Trevor into town with her to look at whatever took her fancy.

And it was in town that, three weeks into her stay, Lynn discovered a terrifying secret.

They were at a hat shop, Lynn studying a green bonnet carefully, trying to decide whether she wanted to buy it or not. Jack had been kind enough to leave a large sum of money for Lynn to do what she pleased (a consolation gift, no doubt), but she had spent hardly any of it. The bonnet was very pretty, and matched a dress that she had finally bought for herself.

"Here, take this order to Conway," ordered the hatter to one of his assistances. Lynn suddenly became more aware of what was happening around her, though Trevor, who was fooling around next to her, was completely oblivious.

At first, nothing more was said, but then the hatter began talking to another customer about Conway.

"Crazy old fool; I can't stand to have him in the shop."

"It was that accident. I still remember when he was a kind young man," defended the old lady.

"Doesn't matter what he used to be like--he's mad now. Did you hear they just got that Price business cleared up?"

"You mean that mansion he was raving about?"

"Yes. Apparently a friend of the family interceded. Has Conway in a mess."

"Good thing they've left town."

"But she hasn't; it's a girl you know. A week past, when Derek was making his order, he was explaining to his brother how he planned to 'exact his revenge.' He's been spying on the place to try and get a feel for the girl."

The old lady asked very quietly, "Is he planning to kill her?"

Lynn could feel the hatter shrug. "They left."

"Someone should warn her."

"She should have been smart enough to leave. And I don't know her name, or even where this mansion is. I hope everything works out for her."

The old lady left, and Lynn, clutching the bonnet, placed it on the counter before asking, "I don't suppose you have any hats suitable for good travel, do you?"

The hatter smiled. "Of course, what were you thinking? Sea travel?"

"Of course."

The man laid out a few examples, and Lynn quickly picked a simple blue hat. "Do you know the earliest ship to England?"

The hatter pursed his lips. "Two days from now, I believe. Best talk to the captain though; it's a merchant ship, and they don't like too many travelers. What's the rush?"

Lynn took her two hats from the counter. "I'm in danger here."

Dragging Trevor behind her, Lynn hurried back to the mansion and locked all the doors and windows, but not before detouring to the docks and arranging a ride back to safety and home.


End file.
